A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST 


ByJ.  A.  ALTSHELER. 


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D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY,  NEW  YORK. 


A   HERALD  OF  THE   WEST 


AN  AMERICAN  STORY  OF  1811-1815 


BY 

JOSEPH   A.   ALTSHELER 

AUTHOR   OF   A    SOLDIER   OF    MANHATTAN, 
THE    SUN    OF   SARATOGA,    ETC. 


.      • 
.      . 


NEW    YORK 

D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY 
1907 


COPYRIGHT,  1898, 
BY  D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY. 


AUTHOR'S  NOTE. 


IN"  this  historical  romance  the  hero,  who  tells  his  own 
tale,  is  supposed  to  speak  with  the  feeling  of  a  Western 
American  of  his  time,  and  not  with  the  colder  and  more 
critical  judgment  of  a  later  day.  His  attitude  toward 
Europe,  and  particularly  toward  Great  Britain,  is  caused 
by  the  events  of  the  War  of  1812  and  of  the  years  im- 
mediately preceding  it,  when  the  death  struggle  of  Britain 
and  Bonaparte  drew  the  whole  civilized  world  into  war, 
including  the  United  States,  distant  and  detached  though 
the  latter  was  from  the  European  system.  It  is  admitted 
by  all  historians  that  the  rights  of  weak  neutrals,  such 
as  the  United  States  then  was,  received  no  respect  from 
either  of  the  great  contending  powers,  and  the  author 
believes  that  we  had  more  cause  to  complain  of  Great 
Britain  than  of  France,  because  Great  Britain  had  more 
ability,  and  not  more  willingness,  to  do  us  harm.  It  is 
perhaps  true  also  that  in  the  early  years  of  the  century  the 
British,  as  Mr.  Ten  Broeck  remarks  in  the  course  of  his 
narrative,  showed  us  the  worse  and  not  the  better  side  of 
their  nature;  and  a  careful  study  of  this  period  confirms 
the  author  in  his  belief  that  the  ill  feeling  once  so  widely 
prevalent  in  the  United  States  against  our  mother  coun- 
try, Great  Britain,  now  happily  passing  away,  and  per- 


vi  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

haps  wholly  removed  hy  recent  events,  had  its  origin 
more  in  the  War  of  1812  and  its  causes  than  in  the  War 
of  Independence.  Perhaps  if  Mr.  Ten  Broeck  had  lived 
at  a  later  time  he  would  have  modified  some  of  his 
opinions  concerning  the  parent  nation. 

Mr.  Ten  Broeck's  attitude,  moreover,  is  that  of  an 
American  of  the  West,  one  who  distrusts  the  politics  and 
manners,  even  the  art,  of  Europe,  and  fears  that  his 
brethren  of  the  East  have  been  touched  a  little  too  much 
by  influences  from  that  source,  sacrificing  some  of  the 
stronger  and  greater  virtues  for  the  sake  of  forms  and 
refinement — a  belief  which  many  Americans  who  lived 
west  of  the  Alleghanies  held  at  that  time.  No  doubt 
what  he  saw  in  the  East  gave  him  another  view  of  this 
subject. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAOK 

I.— MR.  CLAY  is  SPEAKING 1 

II. — A   LADY   AND   OTHERS 14 

III. — FROM   THE  OTHER   SIDE 22 

IV. — A    MEETING   BY   THE   RIVER 32 

V. — A  CABINET  SESSION 47 

VI.— THE  LONE  CABIN 58 

VII.— I   RECEIVE  A  COMMISSION 73 

VIII. — A  JOURNEY   IN  THE   WORLD 80 

IX.— ON  A  FRENCH  DECK 90 

X. — ANOTHER  SIDE  OF  A  PURITAN 110 

XL— WE  SEE  A  PLAY 126 

XII. — AT  THE  DUELLING   GROUND 138 

XIII. — AN   ARRIVAL   FROM   THE   SOUTH 151 

XIV. — IN  THE  ENEMY'S  CAMP 165 

XV.— WHAT  WE  SAW  IN  NEW  YORK  BAY    .        .        .        .182 

XVI. — BEFORE  THE  PRESIDENT  AGAIN 191 

XVII. — THE   FIRST   MESSAGE   FROM    THE   WEST             .           .           .  197 

XVIIL— CONVERGING  EVENTS 212 

XIX. — THE  APOSTLE  OF  PEACE 219 

XX. — THE  GUNS  OF  THE  CONSTITUTION         ....  224 

XXL— THE  COMING  OF  THE  FOE 228 

XXII. — THE  BLADENSBURG  RACES 239 

XXIII. — A    NIGHT   OF   DEFEAT 257 

XXIV.— THE  RULER  OF  A  NATION 269 

XXV.— OVER  THE  MOUNTAINS 282 

vii 


viii  A  HERALD  OP  THE  WEST. 

CHAPTER  PAOK 

XXVI.— AFLOAT  ON  THE  GREAT  KIVERS        .       .       .       .292 
XXVII. — THE  WAY  OF  ANDREW  JACKSON       ....    299 

XXVIII.— SENTENCED 308 

XXIX.— THE  NIGHT  BATTLE 316 

XXX.— AT  BAY 334 

XXXI.— THE  EIGHTH  OF  JANUARY,  1815        .        .        .        .346 

XXXII.— A   GIRL  IN  WHITE  ,      359 


A  HERALD   OF   THE  WEST. 


CHAPTER  I. 

MR.    CLAY   IS   SPEAKING. 


THE  look  on  Major  Northcote's  face  could  not  be  read 
with  ease.  His  eyes  contracted  slightly,  and  there  was  a 
faint  twist  in  the  corners  of  his  mouth,  but  it  would  not 
have  been  fair  to  say  that  he  was  scoffing;  perhaps  toler- 
ance or  good-humoured  indifference  would  have  been  the 
better  way  to  put  it,  and  such  was  my  conclusion  after 
studying  his  strong  features.  He  plucked  once  or  twice 
in  a  meditative  way  at  his  short  gray  beard,  and  then 
said  to  me: 

"  He  speaks  well  for  a  stripling." 

I  did  not  like  his  use  of  the  word  "stripling,"  and 
there  was,  too,  a  shade  in  his  tone  which  I  thought 
should  not  have  been  there. 

"  He  is  young,"  I  said,  "  but  not  altogether  a  strip- 
ling. He  is  older  than  either  Pitt  or  Fox,  when  they  be- 
came famous  throughout  Europe." 

"  True,  true,"  he  said,  increasing  slightly  the  con- 
traction of  his  eye.  "  I  had  forgotten  them  for  the  mo- 
ment. But  he  has  just  come  out  of  the  woods." 

"  And  may  not  the  woods  contain  wisdom?  " 

He  made  no  reply,  but  drummed  idly  with  his  fingers, 
the  one  upon  the  other,  while  the  look  upon  his  face 
showed  high-bred  weariness.  His  manner  annoyed  me, 
and  I  would  have  said  more,  something  a  little  stronger, 

1 


2  A  HERALD  OP  THE  WEST. 

but  he  was  my  kinsman,  though  a  distant  one;  moreover, 
the  music  of  the  speaker's  voice  filled  my  ears,  and  the 
logic  of  his  words  held  my  mind. 

My  feelings,  as  I  listened  to  the  senator,  were  very 
different  from  those  which  seemed  to  he  Major  North- 
cote's,  though  the  reasons  were  good  why  his  point  of 
view  should  be  unlike  mine.  To  me  the  speaker  seemed 
a  hero  ,and  #  .prophet.  Nor  was  I  alone  in  this  tribute 
to  his  -power.  No  sound  was  heard  in  the  chamber  save 
his  voice.;  Thtf  senators  waited  in  eager  silence  for  every 
word  that  was  -spoken  by  the  youngest  and  greatest  of 
them  all.  Hearing  him,  I  was  proud  that  he  was  a  Ken- 
tuckian,  and  that  I  too  was  one. 

He  stood  near  the  window.  The  heavy  crimson  cur- 
tains were  drawn  back,  and  the  light,  filtering  through 
the  squares  of  coloured  glass,  fell  in  softened  red  and 
blue  and  gold  upon  his  face.  He  looked  very  young  to 
be  a  senator,  but  his  youth  was  only  one  of  his  attrac- 
tions. He  was  tall,  straight,  and  slender,  his  face  shaven 
clean,  every  feature  clear  cut  and  full  of  expression,  the 
whole  more  Greek  than  Roman. 

The  gift  of  golden  speech  is  given  to  but  few,  and,  of 
all  whom  I  have  known,  to  him  alone  in  perfection.  He 
had  small  use  for  gestures,  a  motion  of  the  hand  now 
and  then,  for  the  sake  of  emphasis,  and  that  was  all;  his 
voice  clear  and  full,  each  word  uttered  distinctly,  needed 
no  aid;  its  melody  charmed  the  senses,  and  his  logic 
convinced  the  mind. 

"What  is  the  strife  of  England  and  Bonaparte,  the 
reckless  ambition  of  each  to  rule  the  world,  to  us?"  he 
asked.  "  Why  should  we  be  dragged  into  it  when  we  ask 
for  nothing  but  to  be  let  alone  and  to  build  up  our  nation 
as  we  see  fit?  To  France  we  may  owe  some  debt  of  grati- 
tude, but  not  to  Bonaparte.  To  England  we  owe  noth- 
ing but  dislike  and  distrust.  To  what  do  kindred  blood 
and  common  laws  and  language  amount,  when  we  have 
endured  nothing  from  her  for  half  a  lifetime  but  insults 


MR.  CLAY  IS  SPEAKING.  3 

and  wrongs?  In  all  that  time  she  has  pursued  us  with 
a  malignity  to  which  I  know  no  equal.  In  her  books 
and  newspapers  she  says  we  are  without  truth,  honesty, 
or  courage.  She  has  plundered  and  confiscated  our  ships 
on  every  sea,  though  there  is  no  war  between  us.  Thou- 
sands of  our  sailors,  taken  from  their  own  vessels  by  su- 
perior force,  are  serving  on  hers.  Her  war  fleets  keep 
watch  at  the  entrance  to  every  port  of  this  country  and 
rob  our  merchant  vessels  at  their  leisure,  adding  to  the 
wrong  every  circumstance  of  arrogance  and  insult  that  a 
strong  nation  can  devise  for  a  weak  one." 

He  paused  for  a  moment,  his  eyes  flashing  and  the 
angry  blood  rising  to  his  face. 

I  felt  my  own  blood  flowing  in  a  hot  torrent  through 
my  veins.  We  of  the  West  and  South  knew  our  enemy. 
We  knew  who  had  sharpened  the  Indian  tomahawk 
against  us  to  fill  the  border  with  atrocities  whose  full 
story  can  not  be  put  on  paper.  If  our  brethren  of  the 
East  would  submit  to  their  wrongs,  we  at  least  could  re- 
sent them  for  them  and  our  own  too. 

"  He  seems  to  feel  what  he  says,"  said  Major  North- 
cote  carelessly,  "  but  doubtless  he  is  ill  informed.  It 
is  easy  enough  to  work  one's  self  into  a  passion  over 
things  that  do  not  exist." 

"  They  do  not  exist  only  for  those  who  refuse  to  see 
them,"  I  said.  "  To  us  every  word  he  speaks  is  true, 
and  the  better  part  of  England  has  long  admitted  that  it 
is  so." 

"  A  man  who  endures  one  wrong  only  prepares  to  en- 
dure another,"  continued  the  speaker.  "  This  is  not  a 
world  of  universal  humanity  and  justice;  it  seems  to  me 
that  at  the  present  time  it  is  a  world  of  universal  ag- 
gression by  the  strong  upon  the  weak.  What  has  our 
peace  policy  brought  upon  us  but  continued  and  more 
violent  assaults  by  England?  Have  you  forgotten  the 
attack  upon  the  Chesapeake  and  the  murder  of  her  sailors 
by  the  English,  and  that  we  have  not  received  any  repa- 


4  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

ration  or  even  apology  for  it,  though  four  years  have 
passed  since  that  event?  Have  you  forgotten  the  murder 
of  Pierce  in  New  York  Harbour  itself  by  the  English? 
Have  you  forgotten  that  we  have  an  Indian  war  now  in 
the  Northwest,  incited  and  encouraged  by  the  English? 
We  shall  never  know  peace  until  we  make  war  with  the 
English,  and  fight  it  through  as  best  we  can." 

I  wanted  to  applaud,  to  make  known  to  all  how  much 
I  liked  his  words  and  how  deeply  I  felt  their  truth. 
The  policy  of  turning  the  left  cheek  when  the  other  has 
been  smitten  may  be  good  enough  for  men  who  are  will- 
ing to  become  martyrs  and  take  their  glory  that  way, 
but  it  means  disgrace  and  ruin  for  a  nation,  at  least  in 
our  day. 

Major  Northcote  continued  to  drum  with  his  fingers, 
and  was  looking  critically  at  the  speaker,  as  if  he  would 
put  him  through  some  process  of  analysis  and  decide  to 
what  part  of  the  animal  kingdom  he  belonged.  He  did 
not  seem  to  me  to  take  the  attack  in  a  manner  becoming 
a  United  Empire  Loyalist,  who  should  have  been  full  of 
wrath  at  these  attacks  upon  his  beloved  England,  more 
wrathful  even  than  an  Englishman,  and  at  that  time 
they  arrogated  to  themselves  the  exclusive  possession  of 
all  the  virtues;  while  the  Loyalists,  being  merely  step- 
sons, were  compelled  to  boast  their  attachment  still  more 
loudly. 

The  speaker  had  paused  again,  as  if  to  gather  his 
strength  and  ideas  for  another  effort,  while  the  words  al- 
ready spoken  were  making  their  impression  upon  the 
minds  of  the  senators.  The  faces  of  some,  the  greater 
number,  showed  appreciation  and  belief;  others  shrugged 
their  shoulders  or  turned  their  eyes  away,  as  if  the  orator 
had  violated  preconceived  opinions.  None  applauded, 
nor  did  any  express  dissent  by  word  or  noisy  movement. 
The  chamber  was  quite  still,  waiting  the  will  of  the 
speaker,  for  in  those  days  our  Senate  considered  gravity 
necessary  to  its  being. 


MR.   CLAY  IS  SPEAKING.  5 

Where  we  were  the  talk  was  all  of  war;  outside  we  saw 
nothing  but  peace.  The  scrub  oaks  and  alders  that  cov- 
ered the  marshy  ground  between  the  Capitol  and  the 
White  House  nodded  in  the  sharp  February  breeze.  Some 
negro  boys  played  lazily  in  the  half-made  and  muddy 
streets,  and  the  smoke  rose  from  cabins  which  still  defied 
the  advance  of  the  newly  decreed  Capitol.  Two  men  on 
a  hanging  platform  were  at  work  on  the  white  sandstone 
walls  of  the  President's  house.  Beyond  shone  the  broad 
Potomac,  but  around  everything  converged  the  wilderness, 
almost  primeval,  creeping  up  even  to  the  walls  of  the 
Capitol  and  the  White  House,  and  thrusting  long  arms 
of  bushes  and  dense  scrub  between  the  buildings  of  the 
Government,  isolating  and  surrounding  each,  as  if  threat- 
ening to  return  and  reconquer  the  little  ground  that  we 
had  won  with  so  much  use  of  the  axe  and  spade. 

An  old  man,  a  senator  from  New  England,  took  ad- 
vantage of  the  pause  and  rose  to  question  the  speaker. 

"  Suppose  we  declare  war  on  England,  how  are  we  to 
make  it,  Mr.  Clay?  "  he  asked. 

Major  Northcote  looked  at  him  with  a  slight  increase 
of  interest. 

"  Really,  that  is  not  an  impertinent  question/'  he 
whispered  to  me.  "  There  is  some  disproportion — is  there 
not? — between  the  armies  and  navies  and  military  re- 
sources of  Great  Britain  and  this  country.  It  might  be 
well  to  inquire  into  it." 

I  knew  the  disproportion,  but  I  said  with  some 
heat: 

"  It  is  because  of  this  power,  and  because  she  thinks 
us  so  weak,  that  Great  Britain  has  inflicted  so  many 
wrongs  upon  us.  This  is  your  great  and  glorious  nation, 
your  leader  of  civilization,  a  mere  bully! " 

He  spoke  soothingly  of  my  youth  and  prejudiced 
sources  of  information.  He  thought  that  when  I  was 
older  and  had  seen  more  of  the  world  I  would  change 
my  opinions.  Then  both  of  us  stopped  talking  and 


6  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

waited  to  hear  whether  the  speaker  would  reply  to  the 
question  of  the  New  England  senator. 

"  It  is  true,"  he  said,  "  that  England  has  an  abun- 
dance  of  military  resources,  and  we  hut  few.  But  we  can 
increase  what  we  have,  and  justice  and  the  spirit  of  the 
people  are  on  our  side.  And  if  we  do  not  fight,  it  is  cer- 
tain that  our  condition,  had  as  it  is  now,  will  grow  worse. 
At  a  given  point  the  limit  of  human  endurance  is 
reached,  and  we  have  reached  it.  We  have  tried  pro- 
tests, embargoes,  and  every  device  hut  the  sword,  and  all 
have  failed.  Is  it  better  to  submit  peacefully  to  ruin,  or 
to  make  a  fair  fight  for  a  place  among  the  nations?  I 
tell  you,  gentlemen,  there  is  nothing  left  hut  the  sword, 
and  we  must  try  its  edge  if  we  are  not  to  be  crushed/' 

Borne  on  by  the  force  of  his  feelings,  he  shook  a  long 
forefinger  in  the  face  of  the  assembled  senators,  and  his 
voice  rose  as  he  pronounced  the  last  words.  More  than 
ever  I  marked  its  curiously  penetrating  quality.  It 
swelled  steadily  and  easily  in  volume,  filling  the  room 
and  making  its  own  echo  once  and  again  in  our  ears. 

I  was  lifted  up  by  the  enthusiasm  of  his  words,  and 
I  began  to  hope  that  fortune  might  be  induced  this  once 
to  incline  to  the  side  of  right,  and  not  of  might.  The 
sense  of  our  wrongs  grew  sharper,  and  I  wished  the  decla- 
ration of  war  to  be  made  before  we  left  the  chamber. 

"  It  is  true,"  I  repeated  to  Major  Northcote;  "  every 
word  that  he  says  is  gospel  truth.  We  must  fight  to 
live,  and  since  Britain,  who  should  be  our  best  friend, 
is  our  worst  enemy,  it  is  she  whom  we  must  fight." 

He  smiled  gently,  like  a  man  who  would  restrain 
himself  under  any  provocation,  saying  that  a  declaration  of 
war  by  us  would  at  least  be  rash,  and  his  manner  at  that 
moment  was  irritating,  whether  or  not  he  intended  it  so. 

The  debate  continued  with  increasing  heat,  though 
the  courtesies  were  always  preserved,  the  Western  and 
Southern  senators  desiring  war,  while  those  from  New 
England  and  some  of  the  Middle  States  were  as  emphatic 


MR.   CLAY  IS  SPEAKING.  7 

for  peace.  I  could  not  understand  the  minds  of  the 
New  England  men. 

The  old  New  England  senator,  then  speaking,  had 
been  eager  for  armed  resistance  to  all  the  might  of  Eng- 
land over  a  small  matter  of  taxation  forty  years  before, 
when  we  were  but  a  fringe  of  colonies  on  the  seaboard; 
but  now  that  we  were  an  independent  nation,  with  num- 
bers twice  as  great,  he  preached  non-resistance  and  sub- 
mission, while  England  armed  the  Indian  tribes  against 
us,  impressed  our  sailors,  plundered  and  confiscated 
our  merchant  ships,  blockaded  all  our  ports  with  her 
fleets,  and  had  even  fired  into  one  of  our  war  ships, 
taking  advantage  of  a  condition  which  rendered  her  un- 
able to  resist.  Yet,  with  no  visible  sense  of  shame,  this 
old  man  stood  there  and  pleaded  for  the  cause  which  he 
had  made  his,  alleging  our  weakness,  the  Jack  of  an  or- 
ganized army,  and  the  enormous  risks  we  would  run,  al- 
though forty  years  before  he  had  taken  no  thought  of 
these  things,  when  the  risks  were  greater. 

I  looked  at  the  Vice-President  to  see  which  side  was 
his  choice,  but  Mr.  Clinton  gave  no  sign  that  he  inclined 
to  either.  He  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  facing  the  Sen- 
ate over  which  he  presided,  and  his  plump  red  face,  with 
its  thick  fringe  of  gray  hair,  was  sunk  almost  between 
his  shoulders.  The  coloured  lights  from  the  windows 
played  curious  pranks  with  his  broad  face,  now  turning 
his  red  cheeks  to  yellow,  tipping  his  nose  with  blue,  and 
then  giving  him  a  wide  band  of  scarlet  across  the  fore- 
head. But  he  listened  as  if  half  asleep  to  all  the  talk, 
while  his  gavel  lay  motionless  in  his  hand.  Mr.  Clay 
had  resumed  his  seat,  and  was  reading  some  letters  a 
messenger  had  brought  to  him. 

"  While  it  is  true  that  we  have  suffered  wrongs,"  said 
the  New  England  senator,  "we  have  every  proof  now 
that  the  peaceful  policy  is  best  for  us;  England  has  prom- 
ised to  stop  the  impressment  of  our  seamen  and  the 
seizure  of  our  ships." 


8  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

"  Do  you  believe  that  promise?  "  asked  Mr.  Clay  from 
his  chair. 

"  Certainly/'  said  the  New-Englander. 

"  I  have  just  received  a  letter  from  New  York,"  said 
the  Kentuckian,  "announcing  that  a  fleet  of  five  ships 
which  sailed  from  that  port  three  months  ago,  loaded 
with  grain  for  the  Baltic,  has  been  seized  by  the  English 
and  confiscated  under  a  pretended  violation  of  their  Or- 
ders in  Council,  their  paper  blockade.  Does  the  honour- 
able senator  still  preach  submission?" 

Then  the  debate  became  hot,  the  war  party  increasing 
in  fire,  and  the  resistance  of  the  peace  party  becoming 
feebler. 

"  The  nation  of  which  you  boast  so  much  is  a  nation 
of  robbers;  you  have  just  heard  a  fresh  proof,"  I  said  to 
Major  Northcote. 

"  It  is  a  necessity,"  he  said  excusingly  and  still  with- 
out anger.  "We  can  not  permit  any  trade  that  would 
contribute  to  the  strength  of  the  arch-villain,  Bona- 
parte." 

"  The  robbers'  plea  of  necessity  added  to  the  robbers' 
practice,"  I  said,  wishing  to  speak  plainly. 

"  I  am  afraid  we  can  not  agree  on  that  point,"  replied 
Major  Northcote  smilingly;  "  and  since  we  can  not,  the 
debate  probably  has  ceased  to  be  of  interest  to  us.  Sup- 
pose we  go?" 

I  had  come  only  at  his  request  and  in  order  to  bring 
him,  since  in  virtue  of  my  own  office  I  had  privileges  in 
the  Capitol  not  always  accorded  to  the  public.  But 
I  was  willing  enough  to  go,  and  slipping  unnoticed  from 
the  chamber  we  sought  the  air. 

"  An  unfriendly  visitor  might  take  this  as  a  true  type 
of  the  nation,"  said  Major  Northcote,  as  he  marked  the 
unfinished  building,  the  smoke  driven  by  draughts 
through  the  corridors,  the  loose  skylights  which  dripped 
water  when  it  rained,  and  the  general  air  of  chill  and  dis- 
comfort. 


MR.   CLAY  IS  SPEAKING.  9 

"  You  can  not  expect  a  nation  to  come  forth  finished 
in  a  few  years,  any  more  than  you  could  expect  a  building 
like  this  to  be  completed  in  a  few  days,"  I  replied. 

I  resented  his  slur,  slight  though  it  was,  upon  our 
Capitol.  To  me,  despite  its  incompleteness  and  discom- 
forts, which  would  be  remedied,  it  seemed  beautiful  and 
grand.  He  did  not  reply,  and  we  walked  in  silence  down 
the  new-cut  road,  which  we  called  Pennsylvania  Avenue, 
between  the  cabins  and  clumps  of  alder  bushes  toward 
the  White  House.  The  February  wind  was  sharp,  and 
we  shivered  in  our  cloaks.  The  sight  of  the  cabins  and 
the  bushes  and  the  mud  puddles  which  gave  such  point 
to  Major  Northcote's  remark  depressed  me,  but  I  was 
cheered  when  I  looked  back  at  the  Capitol.  It  rose 
grand  and  white  in  the  brilliant  sunshine,  the  unfinished 
portions  hidden  by  the  distance,  and  in  its  majesty 
seemed  to  me  to  typify  the  coming  greatness  of  our  na- 
tion, which  had  fought  so  hard  for  its  place,  and  still  had 
a  good  fight  to  make. 

I  kept  these  thoughts  to  myself,  knowing  how  Major 
Northcote  would  receive  them,  and  we  picked  our  way 
between  the  mud  puddles  down  the  avenue  toward  the 
White  House. 

If  one  did  not  see  completion,  one  at  least  saw  effort, 
for  at  times  we  passed  brick-kilns  and  the  temporary 
huts  of  the  labourers.  There  was,  too,  a  brisk  sound  of 
hammering,  and  of  timbers  creaking  against  timbers  as 
they  were  lifted  into  place,  which  was  encouraging  and 
told  of  future  results.  I  thought  once  of  calling  my 
kinsman's  attention  to  the  grandeur  of  the  situation,  the 
swelling  hills,  the  expanse  of  slope  and  level,  the  fine 
river,  but  I  concluded  it  would  be  better  not  to  do  so; 
he  would  fail  to  appreciate  them,  and  most  likely  would 
reply  with  some  slight  sarcasm  which  would  sting  all  the 
more  because  of  its  faintness. 

It  had  been  my  purpose  to  go  to  my  room  in  the 
Six  Buildings,  on  the  road  from  the  White  House  to 
2 


10  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

Georgetown,  and  prepare  a  letter  for  the  Kentucky  mail. 
We  clerks  in  the  departments  had  been  forced  to  find 
quarters  where  we  could,  and  Washington  was  not  a  town 
of  homes  then;  but,  profiting  by  the  advice  and  influence 
of  some  friends,  I  had  fared  well  and  secured  a  cosy 
place.  Major  Northcote,  I  supposed,  was  going  to  the 
building  occupied  by  the  British  ministry,  now  without 
a  minister  since  the  departure  of  the  intolerable  Jackson, 
and  under  the  charge  of  a  secretary,  but  before  I  could 
leave  him  I  saw  Cyrus  Pendleton  approaching,  the  man 
in  whose  graces  I  wished  to  stand  well,  though  I  feared 
to  the  contrary  just  then. 

He  came  with  the  long,  easy  stride  which  marks  the 
man  of  the  West,  used  in  the  earlier  days  to  walking  vast 
distances  through  forests  impervious  to  horsemen.  Every 
line,  every  movement  of  his  tall  and  spare  figure  showed 
strength  and  the  iron  endurance  of  the  borderer,  though 
he  was  fully  sixty  years  of  age,  and  had  passed  through 
more  hardships  than  fall  to  the  lot  of  the  ten-thousandth 
man. 

He  greeted  me  in  a  manner  marked  by  cold  courtesy 
and  constraint.  I  had  been  a  favourite  with  him  once 
when  I  was  a  boy,  and  perhaps  I  would  have  been  yet 
had  I  not  paid  attentions  of  some  warmth  to  Marian 
Pendleton,  for  whom  her  father  had  other  and  more 
ambitious  designs.  I  was  sorry,  too,  that  he  saw  me  at 
that  moment  with  Major  Northcote,  whose  opinions  were 
unpopular  in  Washington,  and  whose  companionship 
might  be  considered  to  my  prejudice  by  Cyrus  Pen- 
dleton, a  hater  of  England,  though  I  might  plead  the 
tie  of  kinship,  which  is  very  strong  with  us  of  Ken- 
tucky. 

He  gave  my  kinsman  a  slight  nod,  a  matter  for  which 
I  did  not  care,  but  I  resented  a  little  his  cold  manner 
to  me,  and  in  a  spirit  into  which  perhaps  some  malice 
entered  I  told  him  of  the  ships  confiscated  in  the  Baltic 
by  the  English,  and  I  added  that  one  of  those  ships  was 


MR.  CLAY  IS  SPEAKING.  H 

the  True  Blue,  on  which  I  knew  he  had  shipped  a  valu- 
able lot  of  furs  for  the  Eussian  market.  He  expressed 
no  grief  at  the  loss  of  his  goods,  but  his  eyes  blazed  with 
anger  at  the  name  of  the  robber  nation,  and  he  said  that 
the  sooner  we  declared  war  upon  England  and  ran  the 
risk  the  better  it  would  be  for  us — a  position  which  he 
had  taken  long  ago  and  defended  always. 

Major  Northcote  received  the  attack  with  his  usual 
calm,  and  looked  at  Mr.  Pendleton  with  an  air  of  iron- 
ical superiority  which  could  not  be  other  than  galling 
to  any  man.  The  two  were  in  strong  contrast,  each 
a  perfect  type  of  his  own:  the  Westerner  thin,  big- 
boned,  alert,  clean  shaven,  darkened  by  weather,  an  ac- 
cent peculiar,  dress  careless,  the  whole  type  new  and 
original;  the  Loyalist  ruddier,  European  to  the  last 
touch,  his  attire  elegant  and  careful,  his  bearing  easy, 
graceful,  and  indifferent,  the  advantage  of  manners  whol- 
ly on  his  side,  save  in  the  important  particular  of  sin- 
cerity. 

"  Mr.  Pendleton  is  angry,"  he  said.  "  There  is  noth- 
ing like  a  personal  loss  to  influence  one's  political 
feelings." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  the  Westerner  with  composure;  and 
then  to  me,  "  I  see,  Philip,  that  you  are  willing  to  listen 
to  both  sides." 

It  was  an  allusion  to  my  companionship  with  Major 
Northcote,  a  hint  that  I  might  not  be  faithful  to  the 
West,  and,  giving  me  no  chance  to  reply,  he  walked  on 
with  swift  steps,  an  impatience,  due  no  doubt  to  his  en- 
counter with  Major  Northcote,  showing  in  his  stride. 
One  of  his  strongest  characteristics  was  his  hatred  of  the 
English  power,  which  never  kept  faith  with  us,  and  so 
often  fought  us  with  the  methods  and  weapons  of  sav- 
ages. Nor  was  he  unlike  the  other  people  of  the  West, 
as  I  knew  them,  who  hated  the  English  as  the  English 
of  Elizabeth's  time  hated  Philip's  Spaniards,  and  for 
reasons  similar  in  nature.  The  tide  of  our  dislike  of 


12  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

Great  Britain  was  rising  far  higher  than  in  the  Revolu- 
tion, and  with  even  greater  justice. 

As  he  walked  up  the  slope  leading  toward  the  Capi- 
tol I  saw  a  short,  broad-backed  man,  whom  I  knew  to  be 
the  French  minister  Serurier,  overtake  him.  I  could 
guess,  too,  his  object  in  joining  Mr.  Pendleton,  for  the 
Frenchman,  like  everybody  else  in  Washington,  was 
aware  that  the  Kentuckian  was  a  man  of  wealth  and  in- 
fluence, and  he  wished  to  urge  on  in  him,  as  in  all  others, 
the  growing  hostility  to  Britain. 

It  may  seem  strange,  but  I  felt  a  bitter  resentment 
toward  the  Frenchman,  who  was  merely  seeking  to  push 
us  along  the  way  we  wished  to  go;  but  it  was  our  busi- 
ness, and  not  his,  and  his  interference,  or  that  of  France, 
was  an  impertinence.  In  fact,  we  had  little  cause  to 
like  France  then — as  little  as  we  had  to  like  England. 
We  owed  France  a  debt,  but  it  was  in  abeyance  in  those 
years,  and  I  wished  we  were  strong  enough  to  give  Eng- 
land and  France  a  beating  at  the  same  time. 

The  two  walked  slowly  up  the  steps  of  the  Capitol. 
The  Frenchman  had  taken  the  American  by  the  arm,  as 
if  they  were  friends  of  a  lifetime,  and  was  talking  to 
him  earnestly.  Thus  they  passed  into  the  building,  and 
bidding  Major  Northcote  good  day  I  resumed  my  jour- 
ney to  my  quarters.  I  was  a  clerk  in  the  Treasury  De- 
partment, one  of  the  two  or  three  that  were  needed,  for 
we  were  truly  republican  in  our  simplicity  then,  as  I 
hope  we  are  yet,  but  my  work  being  finished  in  the  morn- 
ing, Mr.  Gallatin  had  kindly  given  me  leave  of  absence 
until  the  next  morning. 

The  day  was  late,  the  dusk  was  beginning  to  show  in 
the  east,  but  in  the  west  the  sun  was  a  great  blazing  ball. 
The  red  light  fell  in  broad  bands  across  the  river,  and  its 
surface  shone  as  if  with  fire.  The  Virginia  hills  and 
forests  on  the  other  shore  were  edged  with  red,  and  tree 
and  slope  glowed  alike  in  the  shining  twilight.  The  red 
tints  faded  into  pink,  which  in  turn  grew  dimmer  as  the 


MR.  CLAY  IS  SPEAKING.  13 

sun  sank  lower;  then  the  darkness  came  and  hid  slopes 
and  hills  alike,  with  only  the  river  gleaming  through  it, 
a  hand  of  silver. 

Around  me  were  the  clatter  of  metal  and  the  chatter 
of  cheerful  voices  as  the  workmen  on  the  new  buildings 
put  away  their  tools  and  started  for  home.  The  Feb- 
ruary wind  was  rising.  It  was  chill  in  the  night.  I 
shivered,  and,  walking  briskly  to  keep  myself  warm,  went 
to  my  home  in  the  Six  Buildings. 


CHAPTER  II. 

[A.  LADY   AND   OTHERS. 

THE  Six  Buildings  was  crowded,  for  Washington  was 
hard  put  to  it  then  to  hold  the  Government,  small  in 
numbers  of  men  though  the  latter  was.  It  was  a  large 
structure,  complete  in  its  ugliness,  but  the  lights  of  can- 
dle and  hearth  fire  were  beginning  to  flame  from  the 
windows  and  cast  bright  streaks  across  the  clumps  of 
bushes  and  the  heaps  of  fresh  earth  thrown  up  by  the 
shovels  from  new  streets.  It  was  a  cheerful  sight,  tell- 
ing of  warmth  and  comfort  within,  and  I  hastened  to  my 
room  on  the  second  floor,  where  I  found  that  Cassar,  the 
black  boy  bound  to  my  service  by  various  presents  of 
silver  coin  of  the  republic,  had  provided  well  for  me. 

It  was  a  small  room  with  two  windows,  in  which  the 
white  wooden  sash  rattled  loudly  when  the  wind  was 
strong;  a  rag  carpet  partly  covered  the  floor,  and  print 
pictures  of  General  Washington  and  Mr.  Jefferson,  pasted 
on  the  plastered  walls,  looked  across  at  each  other.  But  a 
fine  fire  blazed  on  the  brick  hearth,  and  the  hickory  logs 
popped  most  merrily  as  the  blaze  ate  into  them.  More- 
over, Caesar  handed  me  a  warm  glass  of  water  and  some- 
thing else,  a  habit  we  have  in  Kentucky,  and  which  I  hope 
I  have  never  abused.  When  I  had  drunk  the  grateful 
mixture  and  drawn  a  chair  up  to  the  fire,  Caesar  gave  me 
a  copy  of  the  National  Intelligencer  and  went  out,  leav- 
ing me  to  interest  myself  in  the  news  as  became  one  who 
lived  in  times  that  were  full  of  stress  and  change. 

The  first  thing  in  the  type  that  my  eye  alighted 
14 


A  LADY  AND  OTHERS.  15 

upon  was  an  account  of  the  new  Indian  war  in  the  North- 
west. It  was  likely  to  be  the  most  formidable,  so  the 
newspaper  said,  in  all  our  long  list  of  conflicts  with  the 
red  men.  As  was  well  known,  the  Northwestern  tribes 
were  the  most  valiant  on  the  continent,  and  the  English 
agents  from  Canada  were  visiting  them  at  their  villages, 
bringing  presents  of  whisky  and  money  and  guns,  and 
urging  them  to  take  up  the  hatchet  against  the  Long 
Knives,  as  they  called  us.  The  great  chief  Tecumseh, 
and  his  brother  the  Prophet,  reverenced  by  all  the  tribes 
as  the  wisest  and  most  powerful  of  medicine  men,  were 
eager  for  the  war,  and  while  one  spoke  incessantly  for  it, 
the  other  made  medicine,  and  always  drew  from  his 
spells  the  omen  that  the  time  had  come  to  destroy  the 
Long  Knives,  and  their  women  and  children  with  them. 
I  put  the  paper  down,  the  reading  of  the  article 
ended,  and  stared  into  the  fire,  wondering  how  we  would 
meet  the  new  danger.  I  knew  also  that  there  was  to  be 
a  great  rising  of  the  tribes  in  the  Southwest,  and  thus 
we  would  be  belted  round  by  a  ring  of  enemies,  white 
and  red,  by  land  and  by  sea,  and,  if  we  declared  war  on 
the  English,  would  have  to  struggle  in  good  truth  for  our 
lives.  It  seems  to  me  that  no  nation  has  been  forced  to 
fight  for  existence  as  ours,  even  from  the  first  settlements 
at  Jamestown  and  Plymouth.  What  with  the  English  and 
the  French  and  the  many  warlike  tribes,  we  have  found 
it  wise  to  keep  our  guns  loaded  and  beside  us;  and  of  all 
our  enemies,  we  have  found  the  red  men  of  the  forests 
the  most  wary,  the  most  daring,  and  the  most  to  be 
dreaded.  Many  a  winter's  night  have  I,  a  little  boy  sit- 
ting on  the  hearthstone  in  my  Kentucky  home,  gazing 
into  the  red  coals,  listened  to  my  mother's  tales  of  the 
scalping  parties,  and  how  they  would  come  down  from 
the  North  and  attack  in  the  darkness  and  silence.  I 
would  tremble  on  my  stool,  and  creep  closer  to  my  fa- 
ther's side  as  I  heard  the  whistle  of  wind  and  rustle  of 
trees  outside,  and  would  think  that  the  war  parties  had 


16  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

come  again,  though  the  last  to  visit  our  region  had  gone 
long  since. 

I  have  learned  that  it  is  not  well  for  one  who  wishes 
to  keep  a  cheerful  and  balanced  mind  to  sit  alone  and 
nurse  his  wrongs;  and,  improving  my  toilet  in  the  manner 
that  my  intentions  demanded,  I  threw  a  cloak  over  my 
shoulders  to  protect  me  from  the  cool  night  air,  and 
went  out. 

The  raw  little  city,  which  by  day  rose  only  in  spots 
from  wood,  bush,  and  swamp,  was  hid  by  night.  The 
wilderness  reclaimed  its  own  in  the  darkness.  The  unfin- 
ished walls  of  the  Capitol  glimmered  faintly  from  their 
hill,  a  blur  showed  where  the  Treasury  stood,  and  darker 
splotches  on  the  ordinary  darkness  marked  a  few  of  Wash- 
ington's scattered  buildings.  Some  points  of  light,  one 
or  two  from  street  lamps  and  the  others  from  the  win- 
dows of  houses,  twinkled  feebly,  as  if  they  were  making 
last  and  useless  struggles  before  the  invading  night. 

I  was  accustomed  to  all  this;  in  truth,  I  had  known 
nothing  better,  and  one  who  has  ridden  all  night  over 
muddy  paths,  through  endless  forests,  thinks  but  little 
of  unlighted  streets.  But  on  this  evening  the  rawness, 
the  incompleteness  of  everything,  discouraged  me  and 
gave  me  a  sense  of  personal  mortification.  I  knew  well, 
without  any  tedious  process  of  self-analysis,  that  it  was 
Major  Northcote's  manner  in  the  Senate  chamber  that  had 
put  the  poison  in  me,  the  half-concealed  sneer,  the  faint 
suggestion  of  contempt  that  passed  quickly  over  his  face 
as  if  he  would  hide  the  slight  affectation  of  aristocratic 
scorn  which  was  so  galling,  because  there  were  certain 
aspects  of  time  and  place  which  supplied  some  cause  for  it. 
Just  then  I  was  not  disposed  to  give  the  proper  credit  for 
what  had  been  achieved,  great  though  it  was  when  our 
difficulties  and  the  fewness  of  our  years  were  considered. 

But  I  recalled  my  thoughts  again  and  turned  them 
toward  one  of  the  points  of  flame  which  seemed,  to  me  at 
least,  to  twinkle  more  steadily  than  the  others.  This 


A  LADY  AND  OTHERS.  17 

light  shone  from  the  house  of  Cyrus  Pendleton,  a  con- 
spicuous two-story  wooden  structure  which  had  been 
built  by  one  of  the  Notleys,  great  landowners  in  that  vicin- 
ity, long  before  the  Government  had  thought  of  found- 
ing a  capital  there.  As  I  approached  I  saw  other  lights, 
and  I  concluded  that  I  was  not  the  only  guest  who  had 
come.  Cyrus  Pendleton  himself  received  me  at  the  door. 
He  wore  black  broadcloth  and  very  white  linen,  above 
which  rose  his  brown  and  seamed  face.  He  could  afford 
broadcloth,  but  he  had  worn  tanned  buckskin  much 
oftener  in  his  life,  which  had  known  many  hardships  and 
dangers.  His  manner  to  me  at  that  moment  was  a  curi- 
ous mixture  of  welcome  and  suspicion,  as  if  he  were  glad 
to  see  me  and  yet  preferred  that  I  would  not  come.  I 
understood  it,  though  pretending  not  to  notice,  from  the 
double  motive  of  policy  and  pride,  and  inquired  politely, 
after  the  custom,  about  the  health  of  his  daughter  and 
himself. 

Then  I  passed  into  the  house,  and  the  old  man  fol- 
lowed me,  his  manner  still  bearing  traces  of  embarrass- 
ment, as  if  he  would  detain  me. 

The  room  into  which  I  had  come  was  large,  and  every- 
where showed  a  woman's  taste  and  supervision,  though 
there  was  one  feature  which  no  visitor  could  fail  to  no- 
tice. Most  conspicuous  over  the  mantel  were  a  rifle  and 
an  axe,  crossed.  The  rifle  had  a  beautiful  carved  stock 
and  a  long,  slender  barrel  of  fine  steel,  highly  polished. 
The  axe  was  of  heavy  steel,  with  a  long,  strong  handle. 

"  There,  Philip,"  Cyrus  Pendleton  once  had  said  to 
me,  "  are  the  weapons  which  we  Americans  should  always 
keep  before  us,  for  with  them  we  are  winning  the  New 
World,  which  will  all  be  ours  some  day  if  we  want  it. 
I  used  that  old  axe  myself  many  and  many  a  time,  and 
that  rifle  is  the  best  comrade  I  ever  had.  An  American's 
toast  should  be  to  the  axe  and  rifle,  which  are  his  real 
coat  of  arms." 

Marian  was  coming  toward  me.     She  wore  a  flowered 


18  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

silk  dress,  -and  falls  of  creamy  lace  were  about  her  throat 
and  wrists,  setting  off  their  whiteness.  In  her  hair, 
which  was  drawn  tip  in  the  Eastern  fashion,  sparkled  a 
jewelled  comb.  A  brilliant  complexion  is  perhaps  the 
distinguishing  mark  of  our  Kentucky  women,  who  are  all 
kissed  by  the  sun,  but  I  thought  I  had  never  seen  a  face 
that  equalled  Marian's  that  night.  The  red  in  her  cheeks 
deepened  perhaps  a  little  at  my  coming,  but  the  trace  of 
embarrassment  in  her  father's  manner  was  not  in  hers 
as  she  gave  me  her  hand  and  bade  me  welcome,  calling 
me  by  my  first  name.  I  saw  her  cast  one  swift  glance 
at  her  father,  and  there  seemed  to  be  a  note  of  defiance 
in  her  look.  My  heart  warmed  and  my  blood  thrilled  at 
this  look  more  than  if  she  had  given  one  of  another  kind 
to  me  instead,  for  I  knew  that  the  defiance,  or  what  I 
took  to  be  such,  was  made  in  my  cause. 

I  took  a  chair  beside  Marian.  Bidwell,  the  man 
whom  I  disliked,  dressed  in  the  extreme  of  the  European 
fashion,  which  he  had  learned  in  London  and  Paris,  was 
on  the  other  side.  He  must  have  taken  his  cue  at  some 
time  from  Cyrus  Pendleton,  for  he  said  to  me  in  a  lan- 
guid tone,  though  I  could  see  easily  enough  the  sneering 
meaning  in  his  words: 

"  It  seems  that  the  Government,  even  at  the  most 
critical  periods,  does  not  work  all  the  time,  but  takes  its 
ease  on  occasion  like  other  people." 

I  would  have  made  some  sharp  reply,  for  the  intent 
of  offence  was  manifest  in  his  manner,  but  Marian's  eyes 
met  mine  in  a  warning  look,  and  she  interrupted  lightly: 

"  Let  the  Government  take  care  of  itself;  we  will 
talk  of  other  things." 

The  look  which  she  had  given  me,  which  had  indi- 
cated a  confidence,  a  feeling  between  us  not  shared  by 
others,  was  sufficient  to  reward  me  for  silence  and  a  fail- 
ure to  reply  to  Bidwell's  sneer,  and  I  spoke  of  such  light 
topics  as  the  time  afforded — of  "  Tom  Jones  "  and  "  Eve- 
lina," and  Mr.  Irving's  ingenious  Knickerbocker's  History 


A  LADY  AND  OTHERS.  19 

of  New  York,  and  the  latest  dances  that  had  come  from 
Paris,  where  the  court  of  Napoleon  was  acquiring  new 
splendours  and  the  old  French  taste  for  gaiety  was  blos- 
soming again. 

There  were  two  ladies  from  the  North  present,  the 
Misses  Constance  and  Fanny  Eastlake,  handsome  and  of 
fine  figure,  but  not  so  fair  of  complexion  as  our  Ken- 
tucky women;  and  Mercer,  of  Tennessee,  my  friend,  a 
thin,  dry  man,  two  or  three  years  older  than  myself, 
who  had  spent  a  year  or  two  abroad  and  knew  the 
world  to  criticise  it,  wherefore  he  was  now  a  lawyer  in 
Washington;  and  two  or  three  others  of  the  capital's 
society. 

Cyrus  Pendleton  came  over  to  me  presently  and  be- 
gan to  scoff  at  what  he  called  the  Government's  inde- 
cision and  cowardice,  for  he,  like  all  our  people  of  the 
West,  was  eager  for  war,  sure  that  we  could  redress  our 
wrongs  only  on  the  battlefield — an  opinion  which  I  shared 
though,  owing  to  my  position  in  the  office  of  the  Secre- 
tary of  the  Treasury,  I  was  more  chary  in  expressing  it. 
As  I  have  said,  I  have  never  seen  a  man  animated  with 
more  hatred  of  the  English,  especially  the  ruling  classes 
of  England,  though  he  and  all  the  other  rich  men  of  Ken- 
tucky were  seeking  to  build  up  in  our  own  State  a  baron- 
ial and  landed  aristocracy,  precisely  like  that  which  their 
ancestors  had  left  behind  them  in  the  old  country.  That 
I  knew  to  be  the  chief  reason  why  Cyrus  Pendleton  looked 
with  so  much  favour  upon  Bidwell,  whose  many  acres 
adjoined  the  five  thousand  within  a  ring  fence  that  were 
his  own.  The  prospect  of  extending  that  five  thousand 
so  easily  was  too  tempting  for  a  man  of  his  ambition  to 
overlook. 

Marian  stood  near  her  father  for  a  moment,  and  the 
contrast  between  them,  despite  their  resemblance,  struck 
me  with  curious  force:  he  so  rugged  and  seamed,  she  so 
fair  and  gentle,  yet  with  the  same  expression  of  strength 
and  courage.  But  it  should  not  have  seemed  strange  to 


20  A  HERALD  OP  THE  WEST. 

me;  we  see  it  throughout  the  West  every  day,  fair  daugh- 
ters of  rough  fathers. 

"  Handsome,  isn't  she?  "  said  Mercer  in  my  ear. 

"You  think  so?"  I  replied. 

His  face  flushed  faintly,  much  to  my  surprise. 

"  One  has  no  choice;  one  must  think  so,"  he  replied 
in  his  dry  tones;  "but  remember,  Philip,  my  boy,  that 
there  are  other  handsome  women  in  the  world,  and  the 
old  gentleman  has  not  chosen  her  for  you." 

There  seemed  to  be  a  suggestion  of  warning  in  his 
tone,  and  of  sympathy  too.  Which  preponderated  I 
could  not  tell,  and  I  affected  to  notice  neither,  though  I 
could  not  account  even  to  myself  for  the  faint  tinge  of 
red  that  had  come  into  his  face  when  he  spoke  first. 

I  left  early,  before  any  of  the  others,  and  Marian, 
after  the  custom,  accompanied  me  to  the  door,  giving 
me  her  hand  as  I  stepped  out  and  permitting  it  to  rest 
in  mine  for  an  infinitesimal  moment. 

"  Marian,"  I  said,  "  I  may  continue  to  come?  " 

"Until  I  bid  you  stay  away." 

"Which  will  be  never,  I  hope." 

She  smiled,  and  I  walked  away  in  the  darkness,  but 
before  I  had  taken  half  a  dozen  steps  I  looked  back  and 
saw  that  she  lingered  for  a  few  moments  in  the  doorway. 

She  stood  there,  the  lights  of  the  room  shining  upon 
her,  all  else  in  darkness,  like  a  picture  illumined  from 
above.  The  smile  was  still  on  her  face,  and  I  believed 
that  it  was  for  me. 

Do  not  think  I  was  over-sentimental,  but  my  years 
were  only  twenty-four,  and  there  are  moments  in  every 
man's  life  then  that  he  wishes  to  remember. 

The  door  closed  and  the  darkness  became  complete, 
but,  far  from  being  oppressed  by  it,  I  felt  a  certain  ex- 
hilaration and  I  trod  with  light  step.  The  night  was 
cloudy  but  cold,  and,  not  caring  to  return  just  then  to  my 
bare  little  room,  I  turned  into  Pennsylvania  Avenue  and 
walked  toward  the  Capitol. 


A  LADY  AND  OTHERS.  21 

Mists  and  clouds  were  gathered  around  the  lofty 
walls  of  the  unfinished  building,  yet  the  faint  gleam  of 
white  stone  and  marble  showed  through  the  veil  of  va- 
pour, though  all  the  rest  of  the  city  was  buried  in  dark- 
ness, save  for  the  few  lights  that  glimmered  far  apart. 

My  mental  elation  communicating  itself  to  my  mus- 
cles, I  felt  less  than  ever  like  sleep,  and  the  brisk  cold, 
too,  inciting  me  to  physical  exertion,!  walked  on  up  Penn- 
sylvania Avenue,  avoiding  the  pools  of  water  and  the 
mud  holes.  Street  lamps  burned  dimly  at  two  corners, 
their  lights  flickering  in  the  February  wind,  but  I 
thought  little  of  these  things  and  continued  swiftly  on, 
the  Capitol  emerging  from  the  clouds  and  mists  as  I  ap- 
proached, though  its  walls  still  remained  shapeless  and 
undefined,  lofty  columns  of  vapour  against  the  darker 
vapours  of  the  night. 


CHAPTER  III. 

FROM   THE   OTHER   SIDE. 

I  WALKED  up  the  hill  toward  the  Capitol,  because  it 
was  a  favourite  stroll  of  mine,  whether  by  day  or  by 
night.  I  suppose  that  every  one  has  a  desire  to  be  alone 
at  times,  to  feel  the  full  force  of  Nature,  and  there  was 
no  place  in  Washington  more  solitary,  seemingly  more 
abandoned  by  the  world,  than  the  Capitol  at  night. 
When  the  darkness  covered  the  rawness  and  newness  of 
everything,  it  was  easy  to  fancy  that  the  unfinished  walls 
were  not  unfinished  walls  at  all,  but  the  crumbling  ruins 
of  an  old  temple,  and  the  scattered  houses  that  lay  be- 
low the  remains  of  an  ancient  city.  While  we  of  the 
West  did  not  trouble  ourselves  much  about  old  times 
and  old  things,  but  gloried  rather  in  the  newness  and 
freshness  of  our  country,  yet  it  pleased  me  to  do  this 
now  and  then,  for  I  had  read  the  old  histories,  and  I 
missed  sometimes  the  glamour  of  ages,  which  the  com- 
monest country  of  Europe  had,  and  we  had  not. 

I  ascended  the  last  slope,  and  on  my  way  passed  the 
lone  watchman  of  the  building,  who  knew  me,  and,  re- 
turning his  nod,  I  entered  the  portico.  The  watchman, 
continuing  his  round,  was  soon  hidden  from  my  sight  by 
the  walls,  and  I  stood  alone  looking  down  at  the  town, 
and  seeing  but  little  of  it.  I  knew  one  dim  shape  to  be  the 
Treasury,  and  the  dark  line  was  a  row  of  trees  that  shut 
out  the  White  House.  I  could  calculate  just  where  the 
Pendleton  house  stood,  but  no  light  shining  there,  I  sup- 
posed that  all  the  guests  had  now  gone  home.  There 


FROM  THE  OTHER  SIDE.  23 

were  but  a  few  signs  of  life,  and  the  whistling  of  the 
wind  through  the  trees  was  like  one  of  the  ordinary 
noises  of  the  wilderness.  When  the  gusts  struck  the 
stone  walls  of  the  Capitol  they  curved  arounp!  it  with  a 
moan  and  a  shriek,  and  my  fancy  to  make  it  an  old  ruin, 
haunted  by  the  winds,  was  never  more  vivid. 

I  turned  my  eyes  from  the  town,  and  they  caught  at 
the  far  end  of  the  portico  a  gleam  of  scarlet.  It  was 
faint,  just  a  flash,  and  then  gone,  but  it  was  enough  to 
attract  my  curiosity,  and  I  stepped  lightly  down  the  por- 
tico, intent  to  see. 

I  was  convinced  that  it  was  some  one  in  a  red  coat, 
who  had  no  business  about  the  Capitol,  and  being  in  the 
Government  employ  myself  I  felt  that  I  had  in  some 
sort  as  much  right  as  a  watchman,  for  instance,  to  fol- 
low the  wearer  of  the  coat  and  see  who  he  might  be 
and  what  he  intended  there.  The  gleam  of  scarlet 
was  hidden  by  one  of  the  pillars,  and  stepping  behind 
another  column  I  waited  for  its  second  appearance,  which 
was  delayed  but  a  moment. 

Major  Northcote  stepped  from  the  shadow  of  the 
pillar,  and  I  was  sure  that  I  heard  him  speaking  in  a 
low  tone  to  some  one,  being  strengthened  in  this  belief 
when  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  figure  disappearing  at  the 
end  of  the  portico  and  into  the  darkness  beyond.  Yet 
I  could  not  say  with  absolute  certainty,  since  the  night 
was  so  black  and  one's  eyes  were  liable  to  deception. 
But  of  Major  Northcote  there  could  be  no  mistake,  as 
he  came  forward  from  the  shelter  of  a  pillar  and  stood 
near  at  hand  where  I  could  see  him  very  well,  and  in  all 
his  splendour. 

He  was  dressed  in  the  brilliant  red,  white,  and  gold 
uniform  of  an  officer  in  the  British  army,  his  epaulets 
heavy  with  gold  braid  and  tassels,  and  a  jewel-hilted 
sword  which  I  coveted  at  his  side.  He  wore  a  large 
black  cloak  lined  with  red,  which  was  thrown  back  from 
his  chest,  revealing  the  red  interior  of  the  cloak  and  the 


24  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

facings  of  his  uniform.  He  seemed  to  have  adorned 
himself  with  his  most  splendid  attire,  as  if  he  were  a 
young  man  preparing  for  a  festival;  and  in  truth  I  had 
noticed  before  that  he  was  fond  of  fine  clothing  of  bril- 
liant colours — a  taste  which  I  confess  to  having  myself  to 
a  slight  extent,  due  perhaps  to  that  touch  of  the  South- 
ern sun  which  we  feel  in  Kentucky,  and  which  they  say 
breeds  the  love  of  colour. 

He  came  toward  me  without  any  trace  of  hesitation  or 
embarrassment,  his  face,  so  far  as  I  could  see,  expressing 
only  welcome  and  good  breeding. 

"  And  do  you,  too,  walk  alone  at  night,  Cousin  Phil- 
ip?" he  said  in  his  full,  mellow  tones.  "It  is  the 
best  time  to  think,  and  I  have  come  here,  for  where  could 
one  be  more  solitary  than  within  the  shadow  of  this  Capi- 
tol building  of  a  nation?  But  I  was  growing  lonely  when 
I  saw  you;  now  we  will  stay  a  while  together." 

His  manner  was  so  graceful  and  easy,  so  natural,  so 
full  of  cheery  good  humour,  that  it  seemed  impossible  for 
his  words  to  be  false,  and  yet  the  faint  sneer  at  the  nation 
made  me  distrust  him  for  the  moment. 

"  Come,"  he  said,  taking  me  by  the  arm,  "  let  us  walk 
together  while  we  talk." 

I  yielded  to  the  influence  of  his  manner  and  asked 
him  nothing  about  his  presence  there,  which,  untimely 
as  it  seemed,  despite  his  explanation,  was  not  a  matter 
that  I  had  any  real  right  to  question.  He  was  silent  for 
at  least  five  minutes,  and  I  was  silent  too,  waiting  for 
him  to  speak  first. 

"Philip,"  he  said  presently,  "you  are  my  kinsman, 
and  I  can  speak  to  you  plainly." 

I  bowed. 

"And  in  confidence?" 

"  If  I  ought  to  retain  it  so,"  I  said,  growing  cautious. 

He  laughed  a  little. 

"  That  was  a  statesmanlike  reservation,"  he  said, 
"  and  I  think  well  of  you  for  it." 


FROM  THE  OTHER  SIDE.  25 

I  could  not  tell  from  his  manner  whether  he  meant 
it  as  a  compliment  or  a  gibe,  and  I  was  silent. 

"  Yes,  Philip,"  he  continued,  "  you  are  my  kinsman, 
and,  distant  as  the  relationship  is,  I  wish  to  remember  it, 
for  I  have  some  of  that  feeling  of  kinship  which  you 
Kentuckians  cherish." 

"  I  am  flattered,"  I  said. 

"  And  I  am  glad  to  observe,"  he  continued,  without 
noticing  the  interruption  or  my  manner,  "  that  you  show 
more  wit  and  spirit  than  most  of  those  around  you." 

"  Shall  I  take  that  as  a  compliment  to  myself,  or  a 
slur  upon  my  countrymen?  "  I  asked. 

"  I  am  speaking  seriously,  and  because  I  am  inter- 
ested in  you,"  he  replied  with  some  rebuke  in  his  tone. 
"  I  am  an  old  man  and  I  do  not  jest." 

I  was  silent,  for  I  felt  that  his  manner  had  the  ad- 
vantage of  mine,  and  I  did  not  wish  to  appear  the  inferior 
of  anybody  in  wit  and  presence. 

"  This  is  a  convenient  time  and  place  for  me  to  say 
to  you  what  I  wish,"  he  continued.  "  You  and  I  were 
together  to-day,  and  we  listened  to  your  Mr.  Clay." 

"  He  spoke  words  of  wisdom." 

"Not  at  all — not  at  all!  They  were  the  words  of  a 
young  enthusiast  blinded  by  his  own  ignorance.  He 
spoke  of  making  war  upon  England;  of  this  country, 
without  an  army  or  a  navy,  divided  into  many  factions 
and  scattered  over  vast  distances,  declaring  war  upon 
Great  Britain,  the  greatest  power  in  the  world,  greater 
even  than  Bonaparte,  despite  the  vast  military  machine 
that  he  holds  under  his  hand.  One  could  not  believe 
such  monstrous  folly  did  he  not  hear  it  urged  daily  and 
know  that  it  would  be  done." 

"  Then  war  is  sure  to  come?  " 

"  Certainly;  not  in  a  month  or  six  months,  perhaps, 
but  in  its  own  good  time." 

"And  the  result?" 

He  lifted  his  head  with  a  peculiar  motion  of  pride, 
8 


26  A  HERALD  OP  THE  WEST. 

and  a  triumphant  flush  swept  over  his  face.  I  knew 
well  what  the  answer  would  he,  and  I  felt  a  sickness  at 
the  heart,  for  he  seemed  to  me  at  that  moment,  in  his 
resplendent  uniform,  with  his  red-lined  cloak  thrown 
back  from  his  shoulders,  his  sword  at  his  side  and  his 
figure  drawn  up,  to  typify  the  haughty  and  arrogant  na- 
tion which  even  then  was  all-powerful  wherever  Bona- 
parte was  not,  and  with  all  his  power  the  emperor  could 
not  pass  the  line  of  English  ships  that  belted  Europe  in. 

But  Major  Northcote's  show  of  triumph  was  only  for 
a  moment,  a  mere  passing  flash,  and  he  answered  in  a 
quiet  tone  without  any  emphasis,  but  all  the  more  con- 
vincing because  of  it: 

"There  can  be  only  one  result,  and  it  will  be  even 
more  sweeping  than  you  expect,  for  you  must  know  the 
disproportion  between  the  two  nations.  These  colonies 
will  be  returned  to  their  old  allegiance.  Colonies  they 
are!  You  can  not  call  this  a  nation! " 

He  made  a  gesture  of  contempt  toward  the  city  that 
lay  in  the  darkness  below,  and  then  another  to  the  walls 
that  rose  above  us. 

"Is  this  a  capital,  Philip?"  he  asked;  "a  muddy 
village  in  the  woods,  and  some  rough  stone  walls  be- 
tween which  farmers  meet  and  make  what  they  call 
laws?" 

"They  will  be  finished,"  I  said;  "both  the  capital 
and  the  Capitol." 

"  Never! "  he  replied,  speaking  with  emphasis,  and  in 
such  a  tone  of  conviction  that  I  could  not  fail  to  be  im- 
pressed. "  England  will  soon  claim  her  own  again,  and 
we  exiles  of  Canada,  American  by  birth,  but  sons  of 
England  yet,  will  come  back  with  her.  When  we  were 
building  new  homes  in  the  Canadian  woods  we  never 
forgot  our  old  ones  here.  You  have  heard  of  the  Moors 
in  Africa,  who  still  keep  the  keys  of  the  houses  of  their 
ancestors  in  Spain?  " 

"  But  the  Moors  have  never  gone  back  to  Spain." 


FROM  THE  OTHER  SIDE.  27 

"You  can  not  say  they  never  will.  But  it  will  not 
be  long  before  the  English  flag  will  wave  here  again. 
England  is  the  greatest  power  in  the  world.  I  am  not 
boasting.  Can  not  you  see  it?  Look  at  her!  Has  she 
ever  been  beaten  by  anybody?  " 

"  Yes,  by  us.     You  forget  our  own  Revolution." 

"  But  an  incident  that  will  be  reversed.  She  never 
fails.  No  nation  in  Europe  can  prevail  against  her. 
She  is  always  victor  in  the  end.  She  broke  the  power 
of  Louis  the  Great.  She  has  driven  France  out  of  Amer- 
ica and  India.  The  navies  of  France,  Holland,  Spain, 
and  Denmark  have  crumbled  to  pieces  before  hers. 
Bonaparte,  too,  great  as  he  seems,  must  yield  to  her,  for 
England  grows  stronger  every  day  she  fights,  since  her 
trade,  her  agriculture,  and  her  manufactures  go  on  the 
same  in  peace  or  in  war,  and  meantime  France  becomes 
weaker.  When  Bonaparte  is  crushed  you  will  be  left  to 
confront  England  alone." 

He  spoke  with  the  greatest  fervour  and  his  air  of 
indifference  was  gone,  leaving  me  to  see  the  soul  of  this 
man  and  his  dearest  ambitions,  a  man  who  knew  the 
world,  both  that  of  Europe  and  that  of  our  own  country, 
and  the  relative  power  of  nations.  I  had  seen  perhaps 
more  of  these  things  than  most  people  of  the  West  who 
had  not  the  same  opportunities,  and  understanding  them 
thus  there  was  no  reply  that  I  could  make  to  him  just 
then. 

"  If  I  believed  in  omens  and  prophecies  and  cared  for 
dramatic  illustrations,"  he  said,  resuming  his  easy  and 
careless  manner,  "I  would  point  to  the  clouds  and  va- 
pours which  hang  over  this  capital  and  tell  you  that  it 
is  doomed." 

"I  do  not  think  so,"  I  said,  though  I  had  been  af- 
fected deeply  by  his  predictions  and  the  more  substan- 
tial array  of  forces  to  support  them. 

"  You  know  the  only  possible  result  of  this  war,"  he 
said,  speaking  again  with  emphasis  and  a  certain  enthu- 


28  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

siasm  like  that  of  a  young  man.  "  And  why  should  you 
care  ?  " 

"  I  care  very  much." 

"  A  mere  passing  phase  of  feeling,  soon  over.  Why 
should  you  care,  I  say?  You  are  a  young  man  of  sense 
and  spirit.  You  have  ambitions,  political,  perhaps  of 
high  place,  the  right  of  every  young  man.  What  sort 
of  a  stage  does  this  country  offer  to  you?  Suppose  you 
reach  the  presidency  itself!  Merely  the  chief  farmer 
among  a  crowd  of  rusty  farmers  talking  at  your  cabinet 
meetings  about  the  crops  and  the  sordid  cares  of  a  small 
nation  that  has  no  cultivation  and  no  interests  beyond 
the  most  primitive.  This  country  is  only  a  fringe  of  set- 
tlements in  the  woods  of  a  vast  continent.  The  great 
world  is  yonder  in  Europe.  But  when  Britain  comes  back 
and  reclaims  her  colonies,  you  become  an  Englishman. 
You  will  be  in  the  British  Empire,  and  you  can  play  your 
part  upon  the  greatest  and  most  brilliant  stage  in  the 
world.  Is  not  the  exchange  worth  while?  What  have 
you  to  lose?  Nothing!  To  gain?  Everything!  With 
the  British  Empire  restored  and  whole,  with  this  country 
to  receive  England's  surplus  population  and  to  aid  her 
and  re-enforce  her  at  every  turn,  that  empire  will  rule  the 
world,  a  wider  and  greater  world  than  ever  acknowledged 
old  Eome  as  mistress.  What  a  destiny  for  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  race,  and  do  you  not  wish  to  have  your  part  in  it 
rather  than  wear  your  life  out  here?  Eepublics  are 
tawdry,  mean,  commonplace.  An  aristocracy  must  gov- 
ern if  a  country  is  to  be  governed  well." 

I  confess  that  I  was  dazzled  for  the  moment  by  his 
picture  and  the  manner  in  which  he  drew  it,  but  it  was 
my  imagination  only,  and  not  my  judgment,  the  better 
part  of  me,  that  was  overcome.  Nor  was  the  thought  new 
to  me,  and  I  had  heard  other  Americans  speculate  upon 
the  future  might  and  grandeur  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  race 
had  it  remained  united,  though  the  quarrel  between  the 
two  branches  was  daily  growing  more  bitter  and  I  was  one 


FROM  THE  OTHER  SIDE.  29 

who  shared  in  the  strongest  prejudices  against  the  old 
country.  Wishing  to  know  the  point  to  which  he  would 
lead,  I  asked  him  why  he  said  these  things  to  me. 

"  It  may  be  that  I  said  them  to  enlighten  you/'  he 
replied  with  cynical  emphasis.  "  You  are  my  kinsman, 
and  perhaps  I  might  wish  to  help  you  in  the  good  time 
coming  when  an  allegiance  to  the  Government  that  meets 
here,  if  not  too  warm,  would  not  be  remembered  against 
you.  The  British  service  will  be  open  to  its  citizens  of 
American  birth  as  freely  as  to  any  others.  Americans, 
the  exiled  Loyalists,  have  already  won  many  honours 
there.  The  army  and  the  navy  swarm  with  them.  They 
are  serving  in  India,  with  Wellington  in  Spain,  every- 
where." 

I  thought  that  he  would  tempt  me  with  the  promise 
of  a  splendid  career  under  the  empire  to  some  service 
that  no  honourable  man  could  accept,  and  though  the 
great  world  of  affairs  which  was  Europe  was  not  less 
attractive  to  me  than  to  him,  yet  every  impulse  in  me 
rose  in  rebellion  against  the  future  that  he  predicted. 
I  would  have  been  no  true  son  of  the  West  had  it  been 
otherwise,  and  the  feeling  that  we  were  right  and  must 
prevail,  however  great  the  odds  against  us,  re-enforced 
all  the  training  of  my  youth  and  associations  of  my 
whole  life.  I  said  that  I  admired  England,  the  Eng- 
land of  Elizabeth  and  Cromwell  and  Orange,  and  not 
the  England  of  to-day,  which  had  lost  all  sense  of  right 
in  its  struggle  with  Bonaparte  for  the  leadership  of  the 
world,  nor  did  I  think  that  conquest  and  extension  of 
dominion  should  be  the  greatest  aim  of  a  people. 

His  manner  changed  again  at  my  reply.  Except  in 
his  rare  moments  of  enthusiasm  he  seemed  to  have  him- 
self under  perfect  control,  and  now  he  turned  to  light 
irony,  designing  to  make  everything  around  us  or  in  the 
country  appear  vain  and  idle,  skilfully  choosing  the 
things  which  contained  a  grain  of  truth  and  exaggerating 
that  grain  manifold.  He  made  me  feel  uncomfortable, 


30  A  HERALD  OF  THE   WEST. 

sometimes  a  little  ashamed,  and  I  should  have  left  him 
at  once,  hut  he  interested  me  and  I  felt  ahle  to  take  care 
of  myself.  Seemingly  he  wished  to  make  me  forget 
what  he  had  said  about  the  future  glory  of  Great  Britain 
and  the  Anglo-Saxon  race,  as  if  he  had  heen  merely 
drawing  a  picture  on  a  slate  for  our  amusement  and 
would  now  rub  it  out  and  let  it  go.  He  began  to  ask 
me  about  my  ambitions,  what  I  proposed  to  make  of  my- 
self, and  how  I  regarded  my  prospects,  turning  his  tone 
again  from  raillery  to  seriousness. 

"You  would  marry  some  day?"  he  said. 

He  asked  the  question  so  suddenly  that  I  was  con- 
fused and  silent. 

"  You  need  not  answer,"  he  said.  "  I  can  see  and 
I  use  a  kinsman's  freedom  in  speech.  The  lady's  father 
does  not  choose  you,  but  in  the  future  of  which  I  spoke 
a  little  while  ago  he  would  be  glad  to  do  so.  Come,  let 
us  go;  the  night  is  growing  late  and  it  is  cold  here." 

He  drew  his  cloak  more  closely  around  him  and  we 
descended  the  hill,  picking  our  way  with  care  along  the 
rough  road  and  keeping  a  watchful  eye  for  the  mud 
puddles  and  stray  heaps  of  building  materials.  The 
path  narrowed,  and  just  at  its  narrowest  place  we  met  a 
man  in  poor  attire,  probably  a  belated  workman  return- 
ing to  his  hut.  There  was  room  for  only  one  on  the 
firm  ground,  and  Major  Northcote,  who  was  in  advance, 
thrust  the  man  with  a  careless  bend  of  his  elbow  into 
the  mud  and  passed  on,  unheeding  the  others  curse, 
while  I  followed  him.  I  was  ashamed  of  myself,  ashamed 
that  I  had  listened  to  him  so  long  on  the  hill,  for  now 
I  saw  the  kind  of  world  that  he  wished,  the  age  of 
Louis  XIV  again,  with  a  splendid  and  glittering  aris- 
tocracy riding  triumphantly  on  the  necks  of  the  people; 
it  would  be  neither  sordid,  mean,  nor  commonplace  for 
the  aristocracy,  but  wretched  only  for  the  unconsidered 
others;  something  which  no  American  should  wish,  and 
which  the  free-born  English  race  itself  had  rejected. 


FROM  THE  OTHER  SIDE.  31 

He  bade  me  good  night  with  his  usual  courtesy 
and  show  of  good  will  and  went  his  way  to  the  British 
embassy,  while  I  went  mine  to  my  room  in  the  Six 
Buildings,  not  wholly  pleased  with  myself  nor  wholly 
blaming. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A   MEETING   BY   THE   EIVER. 

I  AWOKE  very  early  the  next  morning,  and  according 
to  my  custom  began  a  brisk  walk  in  the  fresh  air  which 
would  make  me  strong  and  buoyant  for  the  day's  duties. 

It  was  not  much  past  daybreak,  but  the  men  were 
already  at  work  on  the  new  buildings,  and  I  could  hear 
the  ring  of  hammers  and  the  thud  of  axes  driven  into 
the  wood.  The  air  was  crisp  and  stimulating,  and  my 
interview  of  the  night  with  Major  Northcote,  when  he 
would  have  tempted  me  with  a  place  in  a  world  more 
splendid  than  my  own,  but  perhaps  not  so  good,  seemed 
like  a  bad  dream.  The  people  around  me  were  nearer 
the  earth  than  his  and  more  akin  to  true  humanity. 
Never  had  I  been  more  sure  that  we  were  right  and  the 
glittering  monarchies  of  Europe  wrong. 

I  met  Mercer  at  a  corner  of  the  street  and  asked 
him  what  had  happened  at  Cyrus  Pendleton's  house  after 
I  left. 

"  Nothing,"  he  said  dryly.  "  Why  should  anything 
have  happened?  Mr.  Pendleton  was  angry,  Mr.  Bid- 
well  sullen,  and  the  lady  defiant,  all  because  of  you. 
Was  not  that  enough  even  for  Mr.  Ten  Broeck?  " 

He  spoke  rather  more  curtly  than  usual,  but  passing 
quickly  on  his  way  he  gave  me  no  chance  to  inquire  into 
the  cause. 

The  river,  with  its  wide  and  shining  sweep  showing 
green  and  blue  and  silver  in  the  shifting  light,  invited  me, 
and  I  strolled  along  its  banks,  as  yet  primitive  in  most 
32 


A  MEETING  BY  THE  RIVER.  33 

part  in  their  wildness,  though  we  had  begun  to  build 
a  shipyard  at  one  point  and  a  wooden  wharf  at  another. 
Still,  when  I  turned  my  back  to  the  town  it  seemed  to 
belong  to  the  wilderness.  Forest  and  bush  covered  the 
farther  shore;  on  the  dim  horizon  was  a  slight  dark  line 
which  must  be  the  rising  smoke  from  a  squatter's  cabin, 
yet  one  could  easily  imagine  that  it  was  the  trail  of  an  In- 
dian camp  fire;  a  negro  in  a  boat  came  in  sight,  letting 
his  rude  dugout  drift  with  the  stream,  and  I  could  have 
made  him  an  Indian  warrior,  his  own  canoe  the  leader 
of  a  long  and  silent  file.  Everything  seemed  so  new, 
so  like  the  wilderness,  so  unlike  civilization  and  the  old 
towns  of  the  coast. 

I  followed  a  footpath  that  led  along  the  shore.  A 
flight  of  wild  ducks  not  yet  used  to  the  sight  of  the  city, 
nor  sure  that  it  would  stay,  shot  down  in  a  slanting  line 
from  the  sky  and  settled  upon  the  surface  of  the  river.  I 
remembered  my  boyhood's  practice,  and  picking  up  a 
little  stone  made  it  skim  and  ricochet  along  the  surface 
of  the  water  near  the  ducks.  They  rose  with  an  indig- 
nant squawk,  and,  rising  higher  and  higher,  flew  away 
toward  the  north,  following  their  leader  in  a  file  as  direct 
and  straight  as  the  flight  of  an  Indian  arrow.  I  watched 
the  straight  black  line  cutting  the  sky,  while  it  grew 
dimmer  and  dimmer  until  my  eyes  could  not  have  seen 
it  had  they  not  followed  its  flight  from  the  beginning; 
then  it  disappeared  altogether  and  the  sky  was  an  un- 
broken blue. 

I  resumed  my  stroll.  Fifty  yards  ahead  of  me  I  saw 
a  smallish  man  walking  very  slowly.  His  shoulders  were 
bent  and  his  hands  were  crossed  behind  him.  The  wisps 
of  hair  which  showed  under  the  brim  of  his  hat  and 
clung  to  the  back  of  his  head  were  gray.  He  wore  dingy 
gray  clothes,  and  his  coat,  much  too  large  for  him,  was 
shoved  up  so  high  that  its  collar  met  the  wisps  of  gray 
hair  and  took  all  shape  from  his  figure.  I  knew  by  his 
bent  shoulders  and  hesitating  steps  that  he  was  in  deep 


34:  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

thought,  and  I  concluded  that  the  trouble  which  could 
send  an  old  man  walking  that  way  by  the  river  side  at 
such  an  early  hour  must  be  of  a  serious  kind.  I  would 
cheer  him  up.  It  is  the  custom  in  the  West,  with  rich 
or  poor  alike,  to  be  friendly  with  strangers  whom  we 
overtake  or  who  overtake  us,  going  our  way. 

I  shouted  to  him,  but  he  paid  no  attention.  I  called 
again,  but  he  continued  his  slow,  meditative  stroll,  his 
hands  still  crossed  behind  his  back.  It  seemed  to  me, 
since  I  was  in  a  very  good  humour,  to  be  too  early  in  the 
day  for  a  man  to  have  so  much  thought  and  maybe  care, 
too,  on  his  mind,  and  walking  more  swiftly  I  soon  over- 
took him. 

"  Good  morning,  stranger,"  I  said,  putting  my  hand 
on  his  shoulder,  and  I  felt  as  if  I  had  to  reach  down  to 
do  it.  Even  in  Kentucky,  a  State  of  large  men,  I  am 
called  large.  "  You  must  have  much  on  your  mind  this 
morning,  if  one  can  tell  anything  from  the  way  you 
walk." 

He  turned  and  smiled  up  at  me,  for  I  towered  some 
good  inches  above  him. 

"  Perhaps  I  have,"  he  said,  "  but  since  I  have  your 
company  I  may  be  able  to  throw  it  off,  at  least  for  the 
present." 

My  face  flushed  until  I  knew  it  must  be  blazing  red. 
I  bowed  with  the  deepest  respect,  and  likewise  with  some 
humility,  since  I  wished  to  appear  well  always,  and  my 
pride  was  hurt. 

"I  beg  your  pardon  for  such  familiarity,  sir,"  I 
said.  "  I  did  not  know  that  it  was  you;  I  did  not  think 
of  it." 

"  Then  I  am  glad  that  you  did  not  know,"  he  re- 
plied, still  smiling  pleasantly  at  me,  "for  otherwise  I 
would  have  missed  the  pleasure  of  your  company.  I 
needed  to  be  taken  away  from  my  thoughts  tljis  morn- 
ing, and  I  am  glad  that  you  overtook  me.  Come,  we 
will  walk  together  and  you  can  tell  me  about  yourself." 


A  MEETING  BY  THE  RIVER.  35 

He  took  my  arm,  leaning  slightly  upon  it,  and  we 
walked  on  together.  The  sting  of  my  awkward  little  act 
was  taken  away  and  I  felt  honoured. 

"  You  hear  often  from  your  State  ? "  he  asked  me 
presently,  for  he  knew  me  well.  Our  Government  was 
so  small  then  that  one  might  know  every  official  in  Wash- 
ington by  face. 

"  Yes,"  I  said. 

"  Tell  me  about  the  war  feeling  there." 

I  told  him  all  I  knew;  I  described  the  indignation 
of  the  Kentuckians  when  they  heard  of  the  repeated  out- 
rages upon  us  by  Great  Britain,  and  how  this  anger  had 
been  increased  by  the  approaching  Indian  wars.  I  felt 
so  deeply  on  this  subject,  my  feeling  increased  maybe 
by  the  revulsion  of  my  mind  against  Major  Northcote's 
allurements,  that  perhaps  I  became  warmer  than  I  should 
have  been  in  such  company,  though  I  was  not  ashamed 
of  my  warmth. 

"  They  think  out  there,  sir,"  I  said,  "  that  we  have 
reached  the  point  where  to  endure  more  is  disgrace." 

He  said  nothing,  but  looked  troubled.  His  face  was 
worn  and  tired,  and  his  frame  seemed  to  be  suffering 
from  exhaustion. 

"  It's  hard  to  know  what  to  do,"  he  said  presently. 
A  minute  or  two  later  he  turned  the  talk  to  matters  not 
connected  with  government  or  politics  and  asked  about 
my  father.  He  was  at  his  home  in  Kentucky,  I  said, 
and  still  well  and  strong.  / 

"  I  met  him  once  in  the  war,  the  Revolutionary  war," 
he  said,  "  and  remember  him.  It  was  just  before  he 
marched  south  with  Greene,  and  I  did  not  see  him  again, 
as  he  went  to  Kentucky  when  the  peace  came.  What 
was  your  mother's  name?  " 

"Northcote,"  I  said.  "She  was  of  a  New  York 
family." 

He  looked  at  me  sharply. 

"Northcote!"  he  said.     "Was  she  related  to  Gilbert 


36  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

Northcote,  the  Loyalist,  who  is  in  the  English  service 
here?" 

"He  is  our  distant  cousin." 

"  An  able  man;  one  who  has  seen  much  of  the  world, 
hut  a  dangerous  man  too  I  think.  I  trust  that  you  do 
not  talk  too  much  to  him,  even  if  he  is  your  kinsman." 

He  looked  very  keenly  at  me  again.  I  bore  his  look 
without  flinching,  though  my  conscience  gave  me  a 
wrench. 

"  We  can  never  agree,"  I  said.  "  He  is  my  cousin 
and  I  can  not  forget  the  fact,  but  that  is  all." 

"  I  should  think  you  could  not  agree  with  him  if  you 
followed  your  father  in  belief  and  action,"  he  said.  "  Mr. 
Ten  Broeck  fought  through  the  Revolution,  and  did  he 
not  bear  his  part,  too,  in  the  wars  with  the  Northwestern 
tribes  after  he  went  to  Kentucky?" 

I  said  yes,  and  I  began  to  tell  him  of  my  father's 
deeds,  being  proud  of  his  warlike  record,  a  pride  that  I 
preserve  to  this  day.  I  told  how  he  had  fought  at  the 
Blue  Licks  when  the  Kentuckians  rashly  dashed  into  the 
river  in  pursuit  of  a  foe  ambushed  oh  the  other  side  in 
overwhelming  numbers,  and  suffered  defeat,  to  be  made 
ever  glorious  by  valour  and  unparalleled  self-sacrifice. 
Then  he  was  with  St.  Glair  when  the  raw  army  was  sur- 
prised in  the  dense  winter  thickets  by  Little  Turtle  and 
the  Northwestern  tribes,  and  he  had  told  me  many  a  time 
of  the  awful  massacre  and  the  mad  terror,  exactly  the 
same  as  that  which  befell  Braddock  and  the  British  forty 
years  before.  He  was  at  the  Fallen  Timbers,  too,  with 
Wayne  when  we  found  revenge  under  the  guns  of  the 
British  fort  itself  for  St.  Glair's  disaster  and  drove  the 
beaten  tribes  farther  into  the  Northwest.  I  told  these 
deeds  of  my  father,  warming  to  the  tale  as  I  proceeded, 
and  when  I  ended  I  said: 

"My  father,  who  has  fought  them  both,  says  the 
Northwestern  tribes  are  more  to  be  dreaded  than  the 
British.  He  says  that  with  equal  arms,  equal  discipline, 


A  MEETING  BY  THE  RIVER.  37 

and  equal  ground  we  ought  to  beat  the  latter,  man  for 
man." 

But  he  would  not  he  led  upon  that  ground.  He  was 
silent  again,  and  his  worn,  weary  face  was  very  thought- 
ful. The  curve  in  his  shoulders  increased  and  he  leaned 
more  upon  my  arm.  We  came  presently  to  a  turn  in 
the  path. 

"  I  must  go  hack  now,"  he  said,  "  but  I  am  glad  that 
I  met  you,  Mr.  Ten  Broeck,  and  I  am  glad  that  I  have 
had  a  chance  to  talk  with  you  about  your  father,  who 
was  one  of  my  comrades  more  than  thirty  years  ago. 
Tell  him  when  you  write  to  him  or  see  him  next  that  I 
hope  he  holds  me  in  as  much  esteem  as  I  hold  him. 
Good  morning,  Mr.  Ten  Broeck." 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Madison." 

He  turned  and  went  back. 

I  stood  there  and  watched  his  bent  figure  as  he 
walked  slowly  on,  until  it  was  hidden  by  the  trees  and 
the  bushes. 

I  think  it  is  the  greatest  thing  in  the  world  to  be 
President  of  the  United  States,  but  I  knew  that  I  was 
far  happier  than  he  and  I  felt  sorry  for  him. 

I  was  saddened  a  little,  but  the  feeling  soon  disap- 
peared under  the  influence  of  the  bright  morning  and 
the  crisp  west  wind.  The  broad  and  clear  river,  the  far 
hills  and  the  forest  stretching  away  until  they  disap- 
peared under  the  horizon  line,  appealed  to  me  and  re- 
minded me  of  the  land  in  which  I  was  born  and  had 
grown  up.  The  wild  free  breath  of  the  endless  outdoors 
crept  into  my  blood,  and  for  the  moment  I  despised  roofs 
and  cramped  offices.  I  wished  to  be  back  in  my  own 
Kentucky,  to  see  the  long,  easy  sweep  of  the  blue  grass, 
and  rolling  hills  of  the  pennyroyal,  and  the  swelling 
slopes  of  the  mountains,  close-grown  with  beach  and  oak 
and  hickory,  down  which  the  clear  brooks  dashed  and 
spattered  and  gleamed  afar  like  streaks  of  melting  silver. 

I  felt  for  the  moment  a  repugnance  to  my  desk  in  a 


38  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

Government  office,  however  it  might  help  my  prospects 
and  however  well  it  might  serve  as  a  means  for  learning 
the  ways  of  the  great  world.  We  Kentuckians  were  then 
children  of  the  open  air,  of  the  hills,  the  valleys,  and 
the  woods,  and  we  are  yet  as  much  as  ever  and  will  re- 
main so.  It  is  in  the  hlood;  the  houses  trouble  us;  they 
are  good  enough  to  sleep  in  when  the  winter  nights  come, 
but  by  day  we  want  outdoors  with  its  illimitable  room. 
That  is  why  we  grow  so  large  and  strong  and  live  so  long. 

I  looked  at  my  watch  and  saw  that  it  was  time  to 
hurry  to  my  office  if  I  would  not  be  late,  and  Mr. 
Gallatin  had  been  too  kind  for  me  to  neglect  his  work 
in  that  manner,  even  if  I  were  disposed  to  be  careless 
of  my  own  interests.  I  walked  swiftly  and  was  soon  at 
the  Treasury  building,  where  I  was  glad  to  see  that  I 
had  arrived  before  my  chief. 

Mr.  Gallatin  was  late,  not  coming  until  I  had  been 
there  a  full  hour,  and  he  was  usually  a  prompt  man  who 
trod  on  the  heels  of  his  clerks.  When  he  arrived  at 
last  I  noticed  that  he  too  looked  worn  and  worried,  as 
much  trouble  showing  in  his  face  as  had  been  visible  in 
Mr.  Madison's.  He  unlocked  his  desk  near  a  window, 
pulled  up  his  chair,  and  began  to  prowl  through  piles 
of  papers.  Those  were  troublous  times  for  the  Secre- 
tary of  the  Treasury,  who  was  a  really  great  man.  There 
were  many  bickerings  in  the  Cabinet,  which  contained 
some  men  not  at  all  great,  and  the  Treasury  itself,  with 
embargoes  and  Berlin  and  Milan  decrees  and  Orders  in 
Council  and  what  not  cutting  down  our  trade  and  the 
Government  receipts  at  the  same  time,  had  to  be  watched 
with  untiring  care.  The  most  of  us  wanted  war,  and 
there  was  not  money  to  pay  for  it.  They  say  the  pen  is 
mightier  than  the  sword,  but  the  purse  is  mightier  than 
either — yes,  mightier  than  both  together. 

His  look  of  trouble  remained.  He  was  a  heavy,  broad 
man,  and  his  face  was  broad  in  proportion,  so  there  was 
plenty  of  room  for  the  expression  of  trouble.  His  head 


A  MEETING  BY  THE  RIVER.  39 

was  quite  bald  on  top  and  shone  resplendently  when  the 
sunshine  came  in  at  the  window  and  gilded  his  bare 
dome.  On  the  sides  of  his  head  the  hair  was  rather  thick 
and  fell  in  tousled  locks  over  his  ears.  He  tugged  at 
these  now  and  then  in  his  impatience  and  worry. 

There  were  only  three  of  us  in  the  office — the  Sec- 
retary, a  clerk  named  Chilton,  who  was  a  Connecticut 
man,  and  myself.  We  worked  all  the  morning  in  silence, 
and  when  I  would  raise  my  head  at  times  to  peep 
through  the  window,  the  earth  outside,  though  still  in 
the  brown  gloom  of  February,  looked  very  inviting.  But 
the  Secretary  never  took  his  eyes  from  his  papers.  He 
read  on  and  on,  as  if  there  were  nothing  in  the  world 
but  scribbled  parchment.  Two  or  three  messengers  came 
in  with  letters;  he  never  looked  up;  they  put  their  let- 
ters on  the  desk  beside  him  and  went  away,  and  by  and 
by  he  opened  them  in  their  turn  and  read  them.  The 
time  for  dinner  came,  and  wearied  by  the  long  morn- 
ing's work  I  hurried  away  with  the  eager  step  of  a  boy. 
Dinner  was  then  in  Washington  what  it  still  is  with  us 
in  the  West,  the  noon  meal,  the  heaviest  in  the  day,  and 
with  those  who  rise  as  we  do  with  the  dawn,  it  is  likely 
to  remain  such. 

There  was  a  new  boarding  house  on  Pennsylvania 
Avenue,  and  I  took  my  dinner  there  with  other  clerks, 
some  congressmen,  three  or  four  senators,  a  naval  officer 
or  two  on  shore  duty,  and  a  few  professional  men.  We 
sat  around  a  long  table  and  passed  the  things  to  each 
other,  for  the  two  girls  who  were  supposed  to  do  the 
waiting  could  not  keep  us  supplied.  We  had  food  in 
plenty,  though  I  suppose  most  of  it  might  be  called 
coarse  in  countries  where  cookery  is  a  delicate  art,  but 
it  was  not  considered  so  by  us.  Meat,  which  makes 
people  strong,  was  the  staple,  and  of  this  a  large  pro- 
portion was  game,  venison  and  squirrel  and  wild  ducks, 
for  one  does  not  have  to  go  far  from  Washington  to  reach 
the  hunting  grounds. 


40  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

I  took  my  customary  seat  at  the  table  with  Mercer 
on  my  right,  while  on  my  left  sat  Felix  Courtenay,  a 
special  friend  of  us  both,  a  South  Carolinian,  the  son  of 
a  Eevolutionary  hero,  and  descendant  of  hard  fighting 
Huguenots,  a  brown-faced  fellow  with  straight  black 
hair.  There  were  others  of  my  age  with  whom  I  was 
in  the  habit  of  associating:  Sanford,  a  tidewater  Vir- 
ginian, a  tall,  thin  man,  a  little  yellow  in  the  face,  show- 
ing that  there  was  a  touch  of  malaria  in  his  part  of  the 
country,  though  he  would  never  admit  it.  Sanford  had 
a  lot  of  family  pride.  He  boasted  that  five  generations 
in  a  direct  line  took  his  family  back  to  a  royal  bar  sinis- 
ter, which,  I  believe,  is  the  last  proof  of  nobility  in  Eng- 
land, and  on  that  account  he  patronized  all  Kentuckians, 
saying  they  were  merely  an  offshoot  and  younger  branch 
of  the  old  Virginian  stock,  which  may  be  true.  Never- 
theless, Sanford  was  a  most  zealous  republican,  an  incon- 
sistency I  have  long  since  given  up  trying  to  solve;  I 
see  it  too  often.  Next  to  him  sat  Wilson,  a  stout  square- 
ly-built Pennsylvanian,  and  on  the  other  side  of  the  table 
was  Adams — Arthur  Adams,  of  Boston,  who  was  of  kin 
to  old  President  John  Adams,  and,  of  course,  to  his  son 
John  Quincy  Adams,  who  was  to  be  our  President  too 
some  day,  and  to  all  the  other  famous  Adamses  of  Massa- 
chusetts, who  must  be  nearly  a  million  in  number,  and  he 
could  never  forget  it.  But  the  most  of  us  were  "Western- 
ers or  Southerners. 

The  talk  very  naturally  turned  upon  our  troubles 
with  England  and  France,  especially  England,  since  the 
last  seizure  of  our  vessels  had  been  made  by  that  country, 
and  all,  except  the  Federalists  of  New  England,  had  be- 
gun to  look  upon  her  as  our  chief  enemy,  forced  to  such 
a  belief  by  the  threatening  events  which  were  occurring 
almost  every  day.  The  views  of  these  men  were  very 
different  from  those  of  Major  Northcote,  and  it  was  easy 
to  see  that  the  things  which  were  his  ambition  could 
never  become  theirs.  Only  one  voice  was  heard  to  pro- 


A  MEETING  BY  THE  RIVER.  41 

test  against  the  general  condemnation  of  the  old  country, 
and  it  was  that  of  Adams,  though  he  objected  mildly 
and  soon  became  silent  in  the  face  of  the  fierce  attack 
that  he  invited. 

The  conversation  was  interrupted  by  Wilson,  the 
Pennsylvanian,  who  produced  a  bundle  of  English  news- 
papers come  over  in  the  last  mail. 

"  I've  a  trading  uncle  over  in  London,"  said  Wilson, 
"trying  to  get  some  satisfaction  for  two  ships  of  his 
seized  in  the  Baltic  by  English  cruisers  and  confiscated 
more  than  a  year  ago.  He  sent  me  these  papers  to  show 
what  lovely  things  our  kind  and  affectionate  blood  kin 
are  saying  about  us.  There's  the  Courier  and  the  Times 
and  the  Post;  in  fact,  all  the  London  papers  and  a  dozen 
or  so  from  the  provincial  cities.  I've  marked  the  articles 
about  us.  Would  you  like  to  have  me  read  some  of 
them?" 

"  Yes,  yes!  read  them!  " 

"Which  will  you  have  first?" 

"  Eead  something  from  the  Courier,"  said  Courtenay. 
"  That's  their  ministerial  organ  and  perhaps  we  can  tell 
from  it  what  their  Government  thinks." 

"  All  right,"  said  Wilson.  "  Here's  an  editorial  ar- 
ticle on  our  financial  honour,  or  rather  our  lack  of  it,  as 
the  Courier  thinks  or  pretends  to  think.  Listen!  " 

Then  he  read  a  lot  of  trash  which  made  my  blood  hot, 
trash  and  lies  though  I  knew  it  was,  and  I  think  that 
every  one  present  must  have  felt  as  I. 

"  There  is  no  honour  among  the  merchants  and  trad- 
ers of  the  United  States,"  said  the  newspaper.  "  They 
are  trying  to  build  up  a  great  commerce  and  great 
wealth  in  defiance  of  the  powers  of  Europe,  and  they 
stop  at  no  falsehood  or  trickery  to  achieve  their  purpose, 
and  they  know  nothing  of  the  sacredness  of  contracts." 

A  full  half  column  closed  with  a  strong  appeal  to  the 
British  Government  to  crush  utterly  this  impertinent 
trade,  which  was  proving  so  annoying  to  bluff  and  honest 
4 


42  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

Britons.  "Let  the  mistress  of  the  seas/'  said  the  pa- 
per, "prove  that  she  really  and  truly  reigns  over  her 
own." 

"  That  isn't  so  very  bad/'  said  Mercer.  "  It's  mild 
compared  with  some  others  that  I  have  read.  I  suppose 
we  ought  to  recognise  that  all  the  seas,  including  the 
bays  and  inlets  that  have  the  misfortune  to  project  into 
our  own  country,  are  England's  exclusive  and  private 
property,  and  we  should  get  a  permit  from  her  every  time 
we  presume  to  set  a  ship  sailing  over  salt  water." 

"It's  come  to  that  already,"  said  Sanford.  "I've 
seen  her  fleets  watching  at  the  entrance  of  the  harbours 
of  New  York  and  Norfolk,  and  I  saw  them  bring  in  the 
dead  sailors  whom  she  murdered  on  the  Chesapeake." 

The  senators  and  members  of  the  House  were  silent, 
thinking,  perhaps,  it  was  best  for  them  not  to  discuss 
such  affairs  in  so  promiscuous  a  company,  but  I  could 
see  the  flush  of  anger  on  some  of  their  faces,  and  as  they 
made  no  criticism  of  our  proceedings  I  suggested  to 
Wilson  that  he  read  more. 

"  Here's  an  article  from  the  Times,"  he  said.  "  '  Bar- 
barians '  is  the  pet  name  of  the  Times  for  us.  This  one  is 
on  the  ridiculous  pretensions  of  the  '  barbarians,'  and  has 
special  reference  to  our  navy.  That  ought  to  be  of  great 
interest  to  you,  Charlton." 

Charlton  was  a  junior  naval  officer  on  shore  leave 
just  then. 

"  Eead  it,"  he  said,  all  attention. 

"I'll  condense  it  for  you,"  said  Wilson.  "The 
Times  says  in  effect  that  while  all  the  pretensions  of  the 
American  barbarians  are  ridiculous,  the  most  ridiculous 
of  all  is  the  idea  some  of  them  seem  to  have  of  making 
war  upon  Great  Britain.  It  calls  attention  to  the  fact 
that  the  British  fleets  upon  the  American  coast  already 
outnumber  the  whole  American  navy  at  least  five  to  one  in 
ships,  guns,  and  men.  It  says  that  in  case  of  war  not  an 
American  ship  would  dare  to  come  "from  port,  and  Eng- 


A  MEETING  BY  THE  RIVER.  43 

land  could  have  nothing  to  fear  from  a  few  bundles  of 
fir  planks  under  a  striped  rag." 

Charlton  was  red  with  wrath. 

"  All  we  ask  is  a  chance  against  them,  ship  for  ship! " 
he  cried.  "See  what  we  did  against  the  Barbary  cor- 
sairs and  against  the  French  in  '98!  If  Mr.  Jefferson 
hadn't  been  so  crazy  with  his  gunboat  policy  we  would 
have  a  fine  fleet  now,  and  could  make  it  a  war  on  their 
shores,  and  not  on  ours." 

Wilson  read  the  other  articles.  They  were  all  of  the 
same  kind,  full  of  savage  abuse  and  direct  falsehood,  or 
a  kernel  of  truth  swelled  into  a  mountain  of  untruth. 
It  is  a  fact  that  after  failing  to  conquer  us  in  our  Revo- 
lutionary war  the  English  set  out  to  defame  us  before  all 
the  world  in  their  books  and  their  newspapers  and  through 
their  public  speakers,  and  now  they  affect  to  wonder 
why  so  many  of  us  do  not  like  them.  I  admit  that  we 
had  many  friends  among  the  English — the  best  nation  in 
Europe  in  spite  of  all  that  has  happened — but  they  could 
not  make  their  views  heard  amid  the  storm  of  abuse. 

I  felt  pained  and  depressed.  I  was  one  who  had  been 
willing  to  see  the  old  breach  between  England  and  us 
caused  by  the  Revolution  healed  up,  and  the  two  Anglo- 
Saxon  nations  go  forward  as  friends  to  a  great  destiny, 
and  that  it  was  not  so,  I  believed,  with  all  others  of  the 
West,  was  almost  wholly  the  fault  of  England.  It 
seemed  a  bitter  thing  to  me  that  the  fiercest  and 
abuse  of  us  should  come  from  the  land  of  our 
and  I  felt  my  anger  against  England  rising,  though 
I  could  not  forget  the  great  deeds  of  her  history,  and 
that  often  she  had  been  the  champion  of  liberty  and  free- 
dom in  Europe — though  not  then. 

Not  caring  to  hear  more,  I  left  the  table  and  went  out 
into  the  fresh  air.  Mercer  overtook  me  there  and  showed 
that  he  was  in  a  sour  humour,  saying  that  all  of  us  were 
for  war  with  Great  Britain  and  we  wished  it  declared  at 
once,  but  made  no  preparations  to  fight  it  He 


±4:  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

posed,  so  he  said,  that  we  had  reached  the  summit  of 
human  wisdom  and  could  carry  on  war  victoriously  with- 
out an  army,  navy,  or  military  resources.  It  was  one  of 
the  virtues  of  the  new  republic  to  overcome  everything 
with  enthusiasm,  which  would  stop  no  cannon  balls. 

"  Nevertheless,"  he  said,  "  the  people  are  for  war, 
and  so  are  you  and  so  am  I;  we  are  all  fools  together." 

I  left  him  to  vent  the  rest  of  his  ill  humour  upon 
whomsoever  else  he  might  meet,  and  returned  to  the  office, 
where  I  found  Mr.  Gallatin  ahead  of  me,  and  with  docu- 
ments already  a  foot  deep  around  him.  The  thoughts 
of  most  people  in  Washington  must  have  been  on  the 
same  subject  that  day,  for  after  an  hour  of  hard  work, 
in  which  the  silence  of  the  room  was  interrupted  only  by 
the  rustling  of  paper  and  the  scratching  of  pens,  Mr. 
Gallatin  turned  suddenly  to  me  and  said: 

"  You  are  in  favour  of  making  war  on  England,  are 
you  not,  Mr.  Ten  Broeck?  " 

"  Yes." 

He  said  not  another  word,  but  I  noticed  presently 
that  the  character  of  the  papers  he  passed  over  to  me  for 
classification  and  filing  was  changing,  and  seemed  to  bear 
upon  the  topic  that  everybody  was  discussing  then.  A 
document  that  crinkled  in  my  hands  as  I  smoothed  it 
out  was  a  petition  from  the  people  of  Ohio  for  two  addi- 
tional regiments  of  regular  troops  to  help  defend  them 
against  the  expected  attack  of  the  Northwestern  tribes. 

"  A  legitimate  request,  is  it  not?  "  said  the  Secretary 
carelessly. 

"  Yes." 

"  So  the  Secretary  of  War  thought,  and  he  referred  it 
to  me,  as  I  am  expected  to  furnish  the  money  to  pay  for 
the  regiments.  Of  course  you,  as  my  clerk,  know  where 
the  money  is  to  be  found." 

"  No,  I  do  not." 

"  Hm!  That  is  bad.  What  is  the  manuscript  which 
you  are  tying  up  so  carefully?  " 


A  MEETING  BY  THE  RIVER.  45 

"A  recommendation  to  the  Government,  signed  by 
most  of  the  substantial  people  of  Baltimore,  that,  owing 
to  the  probability  of  war,  we  ought  to  begin  at  once  the 
construction  of  six  line  of  battle  ships.  They  say  that 
these  ships  would  be  useful  as  a  peace  measure;  that  the 
fear  of  them  would  deter  our  enemies  from  attacking  us, 
and  if  war  should  come  anyhow  they  would  be  extremely 
useful  for  fighting." 

"  Very  well  put.  A  line  of  battle  ship  would  cost 
about  a  half  million  dollars,  and  six  would  cost  three 
millions.  Not  quite  so  much  as  our  whole  annual  ex- 
penditure, but  an  addition  nevertheless.  Of  course,  you 
could  find  the  money  for  these  ships  in  the  Treasury, 
could  you  not  ?  " 

"  No." 

There  was  no  satiric  twinkle  in  his  eye  and  no  curve 
of  his  mouth  to  indicate  humour,  but  I  knew  well  his 
purpose,  for  he  continued  to  pass  to  me  documents  which 
showed  our  want  of  money  to  do  the  things  that  the 
country  demanded — demands  often  reasonable,  even  wise 
enough,  had  there  been  any  one  to  pay  for  doing  them. 
I  understand  his  motive  now  better  perhaps  than  I  did 
then,  for  I  know  that  there  come  times  even  to  old  men 
in  high  station  when  they  wish  to  justify  themselves  in 
the  eyes  of  youth.  After  these  brief  comments  he  was 
silent  until  the  moment  for  my  going  came,  when  he  said: 

"  I've  let  you  see  this  afternoon  some  of  our  diffi- 
culties. Come  with  me  to-night  and  I  will  show  you 
why  this  country  needs  diplomacy  and  tact.  There  is  to 
be  a  Cabinet  meeting  at  the  White  House  and  we  will 
need  a  clerk.  You  shall  serve  and  be  silent.  You  can 
do  both,  I  believe." 

I  assented  with  the  greatest  willingness  to  what  was 
an  order  rather  than  a  request,  and  closing  my  desk  with 
the  feeling  of  a  schoolboy  whose  day  at  his  books  is  over, 
bade  the  Secretary  good  afternoon,  and  rushed  out  into 
the  sunshine.  The  wind  was  coming  from  the  south- 


46  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

west  now  and  was  warm.  Though  it  was  February  there 
was  a  suspicion  of  spring  in  the  air.  I  thought  I  could 
see  tender  green  shoots  nestling  in  the  dry  grass,  and  on 
the  trees  across  yonder  I  was  sure  the  buds  were  begin- 
ning to  come. 

The  sun  was  setting  in  a  cloudless  sky,  and  the  big 
round  globe  was  all  red  flame.  Everything  caught  the 
glow  and  sent  it  back.  The  windows  of  the  Capitol 
blazed  with  fire.  Common  wooden  houses  turned  to  cas- 
tles and  palaces.  Bars  of  light  fell  across  the  river,  col- 
ouring it  red  and  gold  in  the  sunshine,  leaving  it  gray 
and  dark  blue  in  the  shadow.  In  the  far  sky  a  flock  of 
wild  geese  flew  northward. 

It  was  beautiful  to  me,  who  had  been  shut  up  in  a 
room  since  morning,  and  I  walked  about  in  the  fresh 
air,  meaning  to  enjoy  it  as  long  as  I  could  before  going 
to  the  Secretary's  house  in  order  to  accompany  him  to 
the  Cabinet  meeting.  Without  laying  any  such  plan  in 
my  mind  I  found  myself  in  five  minutes  walking  before 
the  house  of  Cyrus  Pendleton.  Two  horses  were  hitched 
at  the  gate,  and  Marian  and  Bidwell  were  passing  across 
the  lawn  together  toward  the  front  door.  I  had  no 
claims  of  proprietorship  over  her,  no  actual  words  of  love 
had  passed  between  us,  and  yet,  at  the  moment,  I  felt  a 
pang  of  jealousy.  Fortune  had  made  the  way  so  easy 
for  him:  the  old  man,  her  father,  was  continually  his 
ally,  and  the  sense  of  obedience  and  loyalty  was  strong  in 
her.  All  these  things  might  wear  away  any  resolution. 
But  they  saw  me,  and  she  tossed  over  the  fence  to  me  a 
little  bunch  of  evergreen  that  she  held  in  her  hand.  I 
pinned  it  on  the  lapel  of  my  coat  and  passed  on,  thinking 
for  the  time  but  little  of  wars  and  the  rivalries  of  nations. 


CHAPTER  V. 

A  CABINET  SESSION. 

MR.  GALLATIN  was  living  then  in  a  boarding  house, 
his  family  being  absent  in  Philadelphia,  and  he  had  but 
two  rooms,  only  one  of  which  was  carpeted.  It  was  at 
these  rooms  that  I  arrived  ahead  of  time,  though  I  had 
to  wait  but  a  few  minutes  until  he  put  on  his  cloak  and 
we  started  toward  the  White  House.  His  boarding  house 
was  on  a  street  so  called,  but  really  an  unfinished  road. 
At  the  corner,  where  another  road  intersected  it,  an  old 
oil  lamp  flared  in  the  wind,  but  there  was  no  other  until 
we  approached  the  grounds  of  the  White  House.  The 
roads  were  still  muddy  from  the  rains,  and  the  Secretary 
proposed  that  we  strike  across  the  fields,  as  the  white 
wings  of  the  Capitol  shining  through  the  darkness  would 
serve  for  guidance. 

We  walked  along  in  comfort  through  the  grass  for 
some  distance,  and  then  we  encountered  a  thicket  of 
alder  bushes,  through  which  I  broke  a  way  with  my  large 
body,  the  Secretary  following  after.  On  the  other  side 
I  was  about  to  plant  my  foot  in  a  pool  of  muddy  water, 
but  I  drew  back  in  time.  A  dog  in  the  backyard  of  a 
negro  cabin  howled  dismally  at  us,  but  unheeding  him 
we  passed  on  and  came  to  a  rail  fence,  which  we  were 
forced  to  climb. 

"  I  don't  think  we  made  much  by  our  short  cut,"  said 
the  Secretary  as  he  sat  panting  on  the  top  rail. 

"  We've  kept  out  of  the  mud  at  least,"  I  said,  perch- 
ing myself  on  the  rail  beside  him. 

47 


48  A  HERALD  OP  THE  WEST. 

A  bell  tinkled  close  by,  and  a  little  boy  driving  some 
cows  home  to  a  late  milking  passed  near  us. 

"  Maybe  they've  been  grazing  in  the  Capitol  grounds," 
I  said.  "I'm  afraid  we're  rural  and  raw,  Mr.  Gallatin. 
It's  no  wonder  the  Europeans  make  fun  of  us,  is  it?  " 

"  What  if  they  do?  "  he  replied  quickly.  "  The  Eu- 
ropean nations  have  made  manners  and  not  morals  the 
standards  of  right.  All  things  must  have  beginnings. 
You  can  not  tame  a  continent  in  one  year  or  a  hundred. 
If  our  capital  is  not  as  large  and  fine  as  the  capitals  of 
Europe,  it  is  because  we  have  just  begun  it.  If  our  man- 
ners are  not  those  of  courts  and  seem  rough  and  repel- 
lent to  the  Europeans,  our  morals  are  better  than  theirs. 
We  do  not  make  a  joke  of  woman's  virtue;  we  do  not 
make  seduction  the  chief  triumph  of  a  gentleman's  life; 
we  call  the  morganatic  marriages  of  their  princes  what 
they  are,  licensed  adultery;  we  call  their  diplomacy  by 
its  true  name,  the  art  of  skilful  lying;  we  do  not  have 
one  set  of  laws  for  the  strong  and  another  for  the  weak; 
we  do  not  teach  that  work  is  ignoble;  and  we  give  op- 
portunity to  all,  which  is  the  greatest  of  all  rights.  I  am 
an  European  myself  by  birth  and  education,  and  know 
the  truth  of  what  I  say." 

We  climbed  down  the  fence,  feeling  carefully  for  a 
footing  on  each  rail,  lest  it  might  give  way  with  us,  and 
reaching  the  ground  in  safety  continued  our  journey 
toward  the  President's  home. 

The  White  House  rose  out  of  the  dusk,  though  the 
walls  showed  but  dimly  through  the  trees.  Only  one 
window  was  lighted,  and  the  building  seemed  as  quiet  as 
a  farmer's  house  when  all  have  gone  to  bed.  Certainly 
there  was  not  much  fuss  or  ceremony  here.  We  heard 
a  step  on  the  walk  and  saw  a  dusky  form  in  front  of  us. 
We  hailed  the  figure,  and  it  proved  to  be  Mr.  Eustis,  the 
Secretary  of  War.  Then  we  walked  together  into  one 
of  the  White  House  porticoes,  and  seeing  nobody  there 
to  receive  us,  knocked  loudly  at  a  door.  It  was  opened 


A  CABINET  SESSION.  4.9 

by  the  President,  who  carried  a  lantern  in  one  hand,  and 
apologized  on  the  ground  of  sickness  for  the  absence  of 
the  black  boy,  James,  who  usually  attended  to  the  door. 
At  that  moment  another  black  boy  arrived — from  the 
kitchen,  I  suppose — and  the  President  gave  him  the  lan- 
tern, telling  him  to  tend  the  door  and  hold  the  lan- 
tern in  a  good  position,  in  order  that  it  might  light  the 
other  members  of  the  Cabinet  to  the  proper  place. 

"It's  really  needed,"  he  said,  "for  Mrs.  Madison  is 
visiting  in  Georgetown,  and  everything  about  the  house 
has  gone  awry.  Mr.  Smith  doesn't  see  too  well,  and  I 
want  him  to  be  sure  to  find  us,  for  the  meeting  is  very 
important." 

Then  he  led  the  way  to  the  Cabinet  chamber,  and 
with  his  own  hands  gave  each  of  us  a  glass  of  excellent 
Madeira — very  good  and  comforting  after  a  walk  on  a 
chilly  evening. 

A  long  table  occupied  the  centre  of  the  room  and 
around  it  were  cane-bottomed  chairs  for  the  members  of 
the  Cabinet.  I  drew  up  another  chair,  and  made  ready 
with  my  quills  and  ink  and  paper  for  the  notes  and  mem- 
oranda which  I  was  to  make. 

The  President  took  his  seat  at  the  head  of  the  table, 
and  each  man  produced  papers  from  his  pocket,  which 
he  stacked  neatly  in  front  of  him.  It  had  been  a  long 
time  since  I  had  seen  such  a  formidable  array  of  docu- 
ments presented  to  anybody  for  consideration.  Then 
they  began  to  discuss  them.  They  were  of  all  kinds, 
complaints  from  the  governors  of  States  that  the  Federal 
authority  was  assuming  too  much;  pleas  from  the  West 
and  Southwest  for  assistance  against  the  new  and  hostile 
leagues  of  the  Indian  tribes;  more  pleas  of  American 
sailors  impressed  by  the  British,  dozens  of  them;  and  re- 
ports from  our  agents  abroad,  indicating  the  increasing 
hostility  toward  us  of  Great  Britain  and  the  Continental 
nations,  and  a  general  belief  by  them  that  the  United 
States  had  no  rights  which  they  need  respect. 


50  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

"  We've  long  ago  had  proof  of  that/'  said  Mr.  Eustis. 
"  They  regard  us  as  interlopers  in  the  world,  because  we 
are  new  and  they  think  they  are  privileged  to  plunder 
us  when  they  choose.  They  will  continue  to  think  that 
way  until  we  fight  some  one  or  more  of  them." 

We  heard  the  wheels  of  a  carriage  on  the  sanded 
drive  outside. 

"  I  suppose  that  is  he,"  said  Mr.  Gallatin  in  a  rather 
grim  tone. 

I  was  impressed  by  the  way  he  said  it,  and  wondered 
who  the  "  he  "  was. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  President,  «  and  he  is  likely  to  be 
more  majestic  than  ever  to-night.  There  is  nothing 
quite  so  grand  as  these  Frenchmen  when  they  are  puffed 
up  with  victories  and  power.  He  will  undoubtedly  come, 
bearing  all  the  glories  of  Napoleon  on  his  own  shoulders. 
That  is  why  I  asked  him  to  address  to  us  this  communi- 
cation at  a  full  Cabinet  meeting;  we  do  not  wish  to  be 
overpowered  individually. 

The  black  boy  opened  the  door  and  announced  that 
M.  Serurier,  the  French  minister,  though  he  did  not  pro- 
nounce it  that  way,  had  arrived  and  would  be  pleased  to 
see  the  President  of  the  United  States  and  the  gentle- 
men of  his  Cabinet  at  their  earliest  convenience. 

The  President  of  the  United  States  and  the  gentle- 
men of  his  Cabinet  would  be  pleased  to  see  M.  Serurier, 
the  French  minister,  at  once;  and  hence  M.  Serurier, 
the  chosen  representative  of  the  only  polite  nation  and 
of  the  great  and  glorious  empire  of  his  Majesty  Napo- 
leon I,  was  shown  into  our  humble,  rural  presence.  M. 
Serurier  had  neglected  no  precaution  to  make  himself 
great.  His  uniform  was  a  miracle  of  fine  cloth,  brilliant 
colours,  and  gold  lace.  His  cocked  hat,  which  he  held 
proudly  and  stiffly  in  his  hand,  illuminated  the  room. 
His  black  hair  shone  with  some  fine  ointment,  which 
made  it  curl  up  in  most  ferocious  and  terrifying  fashion. 
The  sword  which  hung  at  his  side,  and  seemed  tempted 


A  CABINET  SESSION.  51 

to  swing  between  his  legs  every  time  he  took  a  step,  had 
a  hilt  of  gold  set  with  gems  and  jingled  fiercely. 

His  Haughtiness  the  French  minister,  the  servant  of 
his  Imperial  Majesty  the  French  Emperor,  gave  one  of 
his  finest  bows  to  each  of  those  present,  except  myself. 
He  knew  me  very  well,  but  he  was  too  much  of  a  French 
gentleman  to  waste  a  useful  bow  on  a  clerk  in  the  Treas- 
ury Department. 

"  We  are  glad  to  see  you,'  M.  Serurier,"  said  the  Presi- 
dent politely.  "  Won't  you  take  a  glass  of  wine  with 
us?" 

I  jumped  up,  poured  out  the  wine,  and  handed  it  to 
the  minister.  He  drank  standing,  and  was  asked  to  take 
a  seat,  but  seemed  to  prefer  that  martial  and  impressive 
appearance  which  can  be  preserved  only  in  an  upright 
position.  I  watched  him,  determined  not  to  lose  a  word 
or  gesture.  I  believed  that  this  was  the  beginning  of 
what  Mr.  Gallatin  had  brought  me  to  see. 

"  You  said,  M.  Serurier,"  began  Mr.  Madison,  "  that 
you  had  received  written  complaints  from  the  emperor 
against  our  Government,  and  were  instructed  to  push 
them  personally." 

"  That  is  correct,  your  Excellency,"  said  the  minister. 
"  I  am  instructed  by  my  master,  the  emperor  " — I  hope 
that  if  any  representative  of  our  Government  abroad 
speaks  of  the  President  as  "  his  master  "  somebody  will 
kick  him — "  to  complain  of  the  great  partiality  the 
Americans  are  showing  for  the  English,  his  enemies, 
helping  them  in  trade,  furnishing  them  with  food  and 
other  supplies,  and  thereby  showing  a  desire  to  assist 
them  to  succeed,  whereas  France  has  always  been  the 
friend  of  this  country,  which  owes  to  her  a  heavy  debt  of 
gratitude." 

I  was  astonished,  but  the  same  complaint  of  our  giv- 
ing friendship  and  assistance  to  the  English  was  made 
by  Napoleon  more  than  once.  In  those  days  the  Eng- 
lish robbed  us  and  kidnapped  us  on  the  ground  that  we 


52  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

were  once  colonists  of  theirs,  speaking  the  same  language 
and  of  the  same  race,  and  the  French  treated  us  nearly 
as  badly,  all  the  while  reminding  us  that  we  owed  them  a 
deht  of  gratitude  for  assistance  in  the  Revolutionary  war. 

"  The  emperor,  then,  thinks  that  we  are  showing  par- 
tiality for  England?"  asked  the  President. 

"  His  Majesty  is  convinced,  and  is  deeply  grieved  at 
such  a  policy  from  those  who  he  thinks  should  he  the 
friends  of  France." 

A  faint  smile  appeared  on  the  worn  features  of  the 
President. 

"  Mr.  Smith,"  he  said  to  the  Secretary  of  State,  "  will 
you  read  to  M.  Serurier  the  protest  which  we  received 
three  days  ago  from  the  Prime  Minister  of  Great  Britain? 
Will  you  listen,  M.  Serurier?  " 

M.  Serurier  shrugged  his  haughty  shoulders  and  sig- 
nified his  assent. 

The  Secretary  of  State  took  from  the  heap  a  large 
paper,  liberally  stamped  with  the  arms  of  England,  and 
began  to  read.  It  was  an  energetic  protest  against  the 
undoubted  partiality  which  the  American  Government 
was  showing  for  France  in  the  present  struggle  between 
that  power  and  Great  Britain,  feeding  the  armies  of  the 
French  despot  and  usurper,  giving  them  sympathy  and 
otherwise  comforting  and  strengthening  them  in  their 
attempts  to  crush  Great  Britain,  the  defender  of  the 
liberties  and  freedom  of  Europe  and  the  sole  bulwark  of 
the  oppressed. 

"  The  king,"  concluded  the  Prime  Minister's  letter, 
"  regards  with  the  deepest  grief  such  a  policy  from  those 
who  are  of  our  own  blood,  who  speak  our  language,  who 
are  really  our  children,  and  who  should  assist  us  to  main- 
tain the  liberties  of  the  world  against  the  tyrant  and 
usurper  Bonaparte." 

M.  Serurier  listened  with  a  supercilious  smile. 

"Perhaps  we  are  guilty  on  both  counts,  M.  Seru- 
rier/' said  the  President  with  his  pale  little  smile;  "  that 


A  CABINET  SESSION.  53 

is,  of  undue  partisanship  for  the  French  as  against  the 
English,  and  also  of  undue  friendship  for  the  English 
as  against  the  French,  but  for  the  present  we  must  deny 
either." 

"  The  charges  of  that  wicked  and  perfidious  nation, 
Britain,  are  not  to  be  believed  for  a  moment,"  said  M. 
Serurier,  making  his  sword  rattle  a  little,  as  a  threat 
against  England  and  not  particularly  against  us,  I  pre- 
sume; "  but  his  Majesty  the  Emperor  Napoleon  is  too 
great  to  speak  anything  but  the  truth.  Your  Excellency, 
shall  I  report  to  him  any  answer  to  this  complaint?  " 

"  State  to  the  emperor,"  said  the  President,  "  that  his 
report  has  been  received  and  will  be  considered." 

M.  Serurier  bowed  again,  but  not  as  if  he  liked  the 
answer. 

"I  trust,"  he  said,  "that  your  Excellency  will  not 
forget  that  France  has  always  been  the  friend  of  this 
country,  and  gave  it  invaluable  assistance  when  it  was 
fighting  England  for  its  freedom." 

"  We  will  not  forget  it,"  was  the  reply. 

M.  Serurier  was  asked  to  take  a  second  glass  of  wine 
with  us,  and  he  unbent  so  far  as  to  do  so.  Then  he 
bowed  again,  and  took  the  majesty  of  France  out  with 
him.  We  heard  the  wheels  of  his  carriage  rolling  over 
the  sand,  but  the  worn  old  men  said  nothing  further 
about  him,  and  resumed  the  discussion  of  questions  con- 
cerned with  the  finances  and  the  internal  state  of  the 
country.  I  guessed  that  Mr.  Gallatin  had  brought  me 
there  to  show  me  how  we  were  pulled  about  by  both 
England  and  France,  and  were  subjected  to  the  most 
ridiculous  accusations  from  each,  but  he  used  me  for  work 
too.  Those  old  men  sat  in  that  room,  hour  after  hour, 
discussing  ways  and  seeking  means,  and  trying  so  hard  to 
make  two  and  two  equal  to  five.  I  have  come  to  the  con- 
clusion that  it  is  a  weary  task  to  found  a  nation,  espe- 
cially when  there  are  several  others  already  in  existence 
which  think  they  have  an  exclusive  claim  to  the  title 


54:  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

and  the  rights  conferred  by  it,  regarding  you  merely  as  an 
intruder  to  be  clubbed  and  kicked  and  stripped  whenever 
it  may  so  please  their  high  mightinesses. 

Midnight  came  and  I  thought  it  was  time  to  go  home, 
but  no  such  thoughts  seemed  to  enter  the  heads  of  those 
anxious  old  men.  I  became  a  machine,  animated  by  a 
will,  but  nothing  more.  I  made  notes  in  the  proper  way, 
but  as  I  finished  each  I  could  not  have  told  what  I  had 
written.  Sleep  tied  forty-pound  weights  to  my  eyelids, 
and  it  required  a  tremendous  effort  to  keep  them  from 
shutting  over  my  eyeballs.  Sometimes  they  would  go 
down,  but  I  hauled  them  up  again  with  a  jerk.  The  room 
became  misty;  the  walls  would  drift  several  miles  away 
and  then  pass  out  of  sight  altogether.  I  remembered  my- 
self sufficiently  once  or  twice  to  reflect  that  one  pays  for 
the  honour  of  going  to  a  Cabinet  meeting,  but  the  old 
men  talked  and  debated  on,  until  at  the  end  of  a  large 
slice  out  of  eternity  they  began  to  roll  up  their  papers, 
and  some  one — a  truly  great  man  he  must  have  been — 
said  it  was  time  to  go  home. 

I  felt  depressed  for  some  days  after  the  Cabinet  meet- 
ing, being  still  desirous  of  war  with  Great  Britain,  con- 
vinced that  it  would  be  just,  and  yet  seeing  more  clearly 
than  before  our  difficulties  and  the  great  odds  which  we 
would  have  to  face.  Nor  was  the  course  of  my  friends 
such  as  to  encourage  me.  I  met  Major  Northcote,  and 
while  he  did  not  allude  to  the  conversation  at  the  de- 
serted Capitol,  his  manner  had  a  somewhat  stronger 
savour  of  irony,  even  of  triumph  and  complacency,  as  if 
he  had  warned  me  of  the  coming  crash,  and  having 
offered  me  safety,  even  reward,  his  whole  duty  was  done 
and  his  conscience  clear.  Mercer  was  a  little  more  cyn- 
ical than  usual,  perhaps  bitter,  and  Cyrus  Pendleton 
was  distinctly  hostile.  I  heard  that  he  had  spoken  of 
my  apparent  friendship  with  Major  Northcote.  and  had 
endeavoured  to  turn  it  to  my  discredit,  though  I  was 
convinced  that  his  act  proceeded  from  other  motives. 


A  CABINET  SESSION.  55 

But  a  turn,  or  rather  an  interruption,  was  given  to 
these  thoughts  by  the  arrival  of  several  of  the  Western 
Indian  chiefs,  whom  some  of  our  commissioners  had  in- 
duced to  visit  Washington  in  the  hope  that  they  would 
be  impressed  so  much  by  the  power  of  the  Long  Knives 
and  wisdom  of  their  Great  Father  that  they  would  refrain 
from  the  proposed  war  upon  us.  I  was  supposed  to  un- 
derstand wild  nature,  being  from  the  West,  and  Mr. 
Gallatin  delegated  me  to  the  task  of  helping  in  the  escort 
of  the  chiefs  about  Washington;  I  as  well  as  the  others 
selected,  for  I  was  only  one  of  several,  being  expected  to 
see  that  the  country's  greatness  lost  nothing  at  our  hands. 
Yet  we  seemed  to  make  little  progress,  and  when  we  took 
them  one  day  to  the  Capitol,  and  I  spoke  of  the  impos- 
ing appearance  it  would  make  when  completed,  the  old- 
est of  the  chiefs  asked  me  if  that  completion  would  ever 
come,  in  a  manner  so  much  like  that  of  another  man  who 
once  had  asked  me  the  same  question  that  I  was  startled, 
and  began  to  believe  that  some  one,  an  enemy  of  ours, 
was  tampering  with  them.  And  I  knew  well  the  man 
who  was  our  most  active  enemy  in  Washington. 

The  next  day  was  Sunday,  a  period  of  freedom  for 
me,  and  soon  after  the  noon  hour  I  was  in  that  part  of 
Washington  in  which  Cyrus  Pendleton's  house  stood. 
Marian  came  out  presently,  and  when  I  joined  her  we 
walked  slowly  through  the  city  and  up  one  of  the  gentle 
slopes,  from  which  we  could  see  the  town  and  the  river. 
Ours  was  not  a  secret  meeting  in  any  sense,  though  both 
of  us  knew  that  Marian's  father,  however  much  he  might 
like  me  personally,  did  not  wish  me  to  become  a  member 
of  his  family.  It  was  with  a  full  knowledge  of  this  that 
I  walked  by  Marian's  side,  and  my  mind  was  under  the 
influence  of  opposing  emotions.  I  knew  her  respect  for 
her  father's  will,  as  we  in  Kentucky  have  been  bred 
largely  in  the  old  English  custom  of  obedience  to  our 
parents,  and  yet  I  believed  that  it  was  not  she  who  would 
choose  Bidwell,  even  if  she  did  not  choose  some  other 


56  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

whom  I  could  name.  The  prospect  of  war,  too,  was 
growing  more  threatening  every  day  and  threw  a  de- 
pressing influence  over  us  all,  those  who  opposed  it  and 
those  who  wished  it  alike. 

Below  us  the  little  city  peeped  out  of  the  woods  and 
bushes,  and  beyond  shone  the  wide  river,  both  full  of 
peace  as  we  saw  them  from  the  hill.  Some  of  the  ear- 
liest and  tenderest  buds  of  spring  were  appearing,  for 
the  warm  weather  comes  soon  in  the  latitude  of  the 
Capitol. 

Marian  spoke  of  the  war  which  we  "Western  people 
expected  and  wished,  and  said  that  it  seemed  a  sad  al- 
ternative when  a  nation  was  compelled  to  redress  wrongs 
by  such  a  method.  But  I  defended  our  cause,  though 
knowing  well  the  difficulties  of  the  Government,  and  re- 
peated our  old  and  in  fact  unanswerable  argument  that 
nothing  else  was  left  to  us.  She  replied  with  a  woman's 
tender  forethought  that  it  must  mean  death  for  many 
and  sorrow  for  more,  and  I  began  to  urge  our  cause  in 
spite  of  such  sufferings  with  so  much  zeal  that  I  forgot 
my  own  peaceful  character  as  a  civilian,  and  told  why  war 
was  necessary  sometimes,  citing  old  instances  in  history 
and  telling  how  a  nation  frequently  came  out  of  the  fiery 
trial  stronger,  freer,  and  better  than  before.  A  few  of 
my  arguments  were  my  own,  but  the  majority  I  had  bor- 
rowed from  others,  the  leaders  of  our  party,  and  borne  on 
by  my  enthusiasm  I  spoke  with  such  fervour  that  I  may 
have  seemed  to  her  a  sort  of  everyday  apostle  of  military 
triumph  and  glory. 

I  stopped  abruptly,  for  I  saw  her  looking  at  me  with 
sad  and  yet  not  reproachful  eyes,  and  my  own  zealous 
speech  ceasing  she  asked  me  if  I  would  go  to  the  war 
when  it  came.  I  had  made  up  my  mind  long  ago  on  that 
point,  and  I  answered  without  hesitation  that  I  would 
go.  I  think  that  every  woman  is  anxious  for  any  man 
for  whom  she  cares — Marian  and  I  had  been  children  to- 
gether— to  fight  for  his  country  if  the  country  needs  him, 


A  CABINET  SESSION.  57 

and  yet  she  is  loath,  too,  to  let  him  go,  looking  further 
than  man  does  to  wounds,  misery,  and  death. 

Knowing  this  truth,  I  watched  Marian's  face  as  I  told 
her  my  intention.  She  looked  away  toward  the  town  and 
the  river,  and  her  lips  seemed  to  me  to  tremble,  as  if  she 
would  speak  hut  restrained  herself.  I  was  on  the  verge  of 
saying  something,  which  perhaps  I  had  come  to  say, 
despite  everything,  but  she  spoke  quickly,  seeming  to  read 
my  looks,  and  talked  of  the  great  uncertainty  in  which  all 
of  us  stood,  the  approach  of  war,  the  upsetting  of  present 
conditions,  and  the  doubtful  future,  her  manner  suggest- 
ing that  this  was  a  time  in  which  no  one  could  form  any 
settled  plans.  It  seemed  to  me  that  she  knew  what  I 
would  say  and  was  warning  me  against  it,  and  for  a  mo- 
ment I  felt  a  little  chagrin,  but  one  look  at  her  face  was 
sufficient  to  drive  it  away  and  tell  me  that  she  was  right. 
I  could  not  be  a  man  and  do  otherwise  than  she  wished. 

She  ceased,  and  I  also  was  silent.  A  slight  flush 
had  come  into  her  face,  telling  of  embarrassment,  and  I 
too  knew  not  what  more  to  say.  Then  we  walked 
slowly  back  to  the  city,  and  as  we  passed  down  Penn- 
sylvania Avenue,  Mercer,  riding  by,  bowed  to  us. 

"  A  satirical  nature,"  I  said. 

"  An  honourable  and  good  man,"  said  Marian. 

She  was  looking  at  Mercer  with  an  expression  that 
was  sad,  and  yet  not  without  some  tenderness,  and  I  be- 
gan to  understand. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE   LONE   CABIN. 

OUR  business  with  the  chiefs  continued  to  go  badly, 
their  tempers  growing  more  intractable,  and  their  com- 
plaints against  the  encroachments  of  the  Western  settlers 
upon  their  lands  increasing,  and  my  suspicion  became  a 
conviction  that  our  efforts  were  matched  or  overmatched 
by  an  opposing  influence.  Some  of  the  chiefs  had  been 
assigned  to  quarters  in  Georgetown,  and  on  the  third 
day  after  my  walk  with  Marian  I  was  ordered  to  take 
them  a  message  the  next  evening  concerning  some  pres- 
ents that  we  intended  to  make  to  them. 

I  ate  a  hasty  supper,  put  on  my  best  clothes,  mounted 
my  horse,  and  rode  upon  my  journey. 

Georgetown  was  a  more  comfortable  place  in  most 
respects  than  Washington,  and  many  of  the  members  of 
Congress  lived  there  during  the  sessions,  going  between 
their  rooms  and  the  Capitol  in  hackney  coaches  which 
ran  regularly  for  hire,  or  on  their  own  horses  as  I  was 
doing.  I  passed  one  coach  all  spattered  over  with  mud, 
for  the  rains  had  been  very  heavy  recently,  and  my  horse 
at  almost  every  step  sank  over  his  hoofs  in  the  brown 
and  sticky  mire.  But  I  did  not  care,  as  I  had  been  used 
to  soft,  deep  roads  all  my  life.  I  jogged  on  rather  slow- 
ly, for  with  the  mud  below  and  my  weight  above  my  horse 
was  not  able  to  travel  at  any  great  pace. 

When  I  had  gone  about  half  the  distance  to  George- 
town I  heard  the  heavy  sough  of  a  horse's  feet  in  the 
mud  behind  me,  and  looking  back  saw  a  hatchet-faced 
58 


THE  LONE  CABIN.  59 

man  on  an  enormous  gray  horse  approaching.  His  pace 
was  considerably  faster  than  mine,  and  he  soon  over- 
hauled me,  but  checked  his  speed  when  he  came  along- 
side, as  if  he  would  ride  with  me.  I  was  not  at  all  averse, 
although  he  was  not  generally  known  as  a  companionable 
man;  in  fact,  the  precise  reverse,  and  when  he  spoke  to 
me  in  a  friendly  manner,  calling  me  by  name,  I  replied 
in  like  fashion,  addressing  him  by  his. 

He  would  have  been  thought  an  odd-looking  man  any- 
where. When  he  stood  upon  the  ground  he  must  have 
been  more  than  six  feet  high,  and  he  was  so  few  inches 
through  that  one  wondered  if  he  would  not  break  in  two 
some  day  in  the  face  of  a  strong  wind.  His  clothing 
was  coarse  homespun,  drab  in  colour.  A  tight  high 
stock  enclosed  his  long,  thin  throat,  and  above  it  rose 
his  long,  sharp,  narrow  face,  in  which  keen  little  eyes 
sparkled  and  flashed  above  high  cheek  bones.  His  whole 
expression  was  sarcastic,  sneering — the  face  of  a  man  who 
believed  in  few  things.  Such  was  John  Randolph,  of 
Roanoke,  who  was  very  famous  in  his  day  and  is  yet;  a 
man  who  said  more  bitter  things  and  made  more  enemies 
than  any  other  whom  I  know,  and  yet  had  many  good 
qualities  and  high  principles. 

"  Whom  are  you  visiting  in  Georgetown,  Mr.  Ten 
Broeck?"  he  asked. 

It  is  the  custom  with  us  for  one  traveller  to  ask  an- 
other where  he  is  going  and  is  not  thought  inquisitive, 
and  I  told  him  without  reluctance. 

"The  Government  will  not  be  successful  with  these 
chiefs,"  he  said.  "  There  will  be  war  in  the  West  and 
the  East  too,  since  all  the  West  and  South  are  in  favour 
of  hostilities  with  Great  Britain,  and  they  will  carry 
their  point.  You  are  a  Westerner  yourself  and  you  know 
this  is  so." 

"  I  can  speak  for  my  own  State.  I  know  that  all  the 
Kentuckians  favour  war." 

"  The  biggest  fools  of  us  all,"  he  said  bluntly.     "  You 


60  A  HERALD  OP  THE  WEST. 

Westerners  and  Southerners  are  talking  war  and  doing 
your  best  to  bring  it  on,  in  which  you  will  succeed, 
but  nobody  is  preparing  for  it.  To  make  war  we  must 
be  able  to  fight.  I  have  no  love  for  the  British,  who  in 
a  foreign  country  become  robbers.  I  can  remember 
fleeing  in  the  Eevolution  with  my  mother  and  her 
newborn  child  before  Tarleton  and  Phillips  and  their 
Pandours.  But  why  should  we  hate  the  British  more 
than  the  coward  Napoleon,  who  is  doing  his  best  to 
stir  us  to  war  in  order  to  cripple  the  British  to  his  bene- 
fit ?" 

He  spoke  with  great  heat.  I  could  not  understand 
why  he  applied  the  word  "  coward  "  to  Napoleon,  who 
might  have  many  faults,  though  not  that  of  cowardice, 
but  it  was  his  favourite  term  for  the  emperor,  and  he 
used  it  often  in  his  speeches. 

I  could  not  argue  with  him,  his  tongue  was  too  sharp 
for  me,  as  it  was  for  many  much  greater  men,  and  we 
rode  on  in  silence  until  we  could  find  some  other  topic 
on  which  we  might  talk  without  heat.  We  came  to  the 
hills  by  and  by. 

"  Yonder  is  Georgetown,"  said  he. 

At  the  crest  of  the  hills  we  turned,  as  if  by  accord, 
and  looked  back  at  Washington. 

The  sun  was  now  nearly  gone,  but  a  trail  of  red  fire 
in  the  west  marked  its  setting.  In  the  east  the  shadows 
had  come,  but  the  sun,  before  going,  threw  a  veil  of 
tangled  flame  and  gold  over  the  new  city.  The  white 
walls  of  the  Capitol  were  radiant  with  a  pink  glow,  and 
the  crests  catching  the  last  and  most  brilliant  rays  of  the 
sun  shone  afar  like  beacons. 

My  companion's  face  showed  admiration,  but  the  ex- 
pression was  there  only  a  moment;  then  he  made  a  ges- 
ture of  discontent. 

"We  talk  of  making  war  upon  one  of  the  world's 
most  powerful  nations,"  he  said,  "  and  look  at  our  capi- 
tal! But  a  raw  village  in  a  wilderness,  and  its  Govern- 


THE  LONE  CABIN.  61 

ment  lives  in  a  camp.  We  might  at  least  finish  that  be- 
fore we  rush  to  disaster." 

We  parted  as  we  entered  Georgetown,  and  I  was  not 
at  all  sorry,  for  his  bitter  humour  depressed  me.  I  trust 
that  the  day  will  never  come  when  I  can  see  only  evil 
in  things. 

I  found  the  chiefs  at  the  house  in  which  we  had  quar- 
tered them,  but  their  humour  was  not  such  as  a  gentle- 
man finds  agreeable,  and  so  leaving  them  to  waste  it 
upon  each  other  I  made  a  call  upon  some  acquaintances, 
and  then  mounting  my  horse  started  upon  the  return 
ride. 

It  must  have  been  about  twelve  o'clock  when  I  left 
Georgetown,  and  the  cold  February  day  had  turned  into 
a  most  unpleasant  night.  A  drizzle  of  rain  was  falling 
and  the  wind  was  raw  and  chilly.  The  dry  boughs  of 
the  trees  scraped  together  as  they  were  blown  upon  each 
other.  In  the  hills  the  wind  was  moaning. 

The  moon  was  a  pale  glimmer  behind  gray  clouds, 
and  I  fastened  my  heavy  cloak  securely  around  me  to 
protect  myself  alike  from  the  cold  and  the  sleety  rain. 

I  turned  my  horse  into  the  road,  and  his  feet  sank 
with  a  sough  into  the  mud.  With  the  darkness  and  such 
heavy  travelling,  I  was  in  for  an  extremely  long  three 
miles  before  I  reached  Washington.  The  chilly  manner 
in  which  my  message  had  been  received  by  the  chiefs, 
and  the  sinister  omens  to  be  drawn  from  their  conduct 
depressed  me,  and  the  night  and  rain  had  more  influence 
upon  my  feelings  than  it  usually  does  upon  one  who  is 
accustomed  to  travel  in  darkness  and  wet  weather. 

The  cold  rain  slipped  down  under  the  collar  of  my 
coat,  and  while  I  was  silently  abusing  the  chiefs  for  their 
obstinacy  my  horse  wandered  from  the  road  in  search  of 
firmer  footing.  As  I  was  desirous  of  finding  a  more  di- 
rect route  to  Washington,  and  thus  shortening  the  jour- 
ney, I  concluded  to  let  him  go. 

The  lights  of  Georgetown  twinkled  and  then  went 


62  A  HERALD  OP  THE  WEST. 

out  behind  a  smudge  of  darkness.  The  wind  sobbed 
among  the  hills,  and  the  wetness  of  the  night  crept  into 
my  body.  The  horse  snorted  frequently,  as  if  he  liked 
the  rain  and  darkness  as  little  as  I. 

I  heard  the  plash  of  water  over  stones,  and  then  saw 
a  faint  grayness  cutting  my  line  of  march.  I  had  come 
to  Eock  Creek,  and  selecting  a  place  with  gently  sloping 
banks  I  urged  my  horse  into  the  stream.  The  water  was 
shallow,  but  flowing  rather  swiftly  at  that  point,  and  the 
horse  stumbled  two  or  three  times  on  the  pebbles  and 
small  boulders.  As  we  reached  the  farther  shore  he  fell 
to  his  knees  with  me,  but  was  up  again  in  a  moment. 
But  he  stood  shivering  with  pain,  and  when  I  dismount- 
ed and  examined  him  as  well  as  I  could  in  the  darkness 
I  found  his  knees  to  be  so  badly  cut  and  bruised  that  it 
would  be  torture  to  the  poor  animal  to  carry  me  home. 
Besides,  I  had  brought  him  all  the  way  from  Kentucky 
with  me,  and  I  prized  him.  There  was  nothing  for  it 
but  to  walk  home  through  the  mud,  leading  my  horse. 
The  accident  made  no  improvement  in  my  humour.  All 
my  bad  luck  seemed  to  be  coming  at  once. 

I  drew  the  cloak  a  little  higher  around  my  neck, 
trying  to  check  the  sly  rain  which  insisted  upon  slipping 
down  next  to  the  skin  and  chilling  me  to  the  bone. 
Then  I  took  the  bridle  in  one  hand,  and  leading  my 
horse,  which  limped  at  every  step,  went  on.  The  rain 
had  soaked  into  the  turf,  and  when  my  heavy  boot  sank 
in  it  little  streams  of  water  spurted  up. 

We  were  out  of  the  path,  and  I  was  compelled  to  be 
my  own  guide.  A  good  horse  will  carry  you  safely  on 
the  longest  journey  in  the  darkest  night  if  you  will  let 
him  have  his  head,  but  now  mine  was  lame  and  depend- 
ing on  me,  and,  moreover,  we  were  out  of  the  road.  I 
began  to  fear  that  I  had  wandered  farther  to  one  side 
than  I  intended,  and  that  if  I  were  not  lost  already  I 
would  soon  be. 

I  looked  around  the  entire  circle  of  the  darkness,  but 


THE  LONE  CABIN.  63 

could  see  no  point  of  light  which  might  tell  of  a  set- 
tler's cabin.  A  light  means  cheerfulness,  and  I  had  no 
other  reason  just  then  for  wishing  to  see  it.  The  con- 
tiued  sobbing  of  the  wind  through  the  hills,  as  if  the 
world  were  in  pain,  was  a  weight  upon  my  spirits,  though 
I  knew  very  well  the  nature  of  the  sound. 

We  trudged  on,  the  lame  horse  following  dejectedly 
behind  me,  his  head  drooping.  I  stumbled  and  saw  that 
I  had  come  to  some  trees  blown  down  by  the  wind.  Edg- 
ing my  way  around  them,  I  found  that  I  was  going  down 
a  hillside,  and  heard  the  trickle  of  a  brook  at  the  bottom 
of  the  slope.  A  beam  of  light  shot  down  from  some- 
where and  showed  me  a  disk  of  clear  water  and  the  round 
pebbles  over  which  it  trickled;  then  it  passed  on  and 
tipped  the  wet  bushes  in  the  line  of  its  passage  with 
flame  and  silver. 

I  could  see  the  point  from  which  the  light  came,  be- 
hind the  brook,  and  apparently  from  a  cleft  between  two 
hills,  but  I  could  not  see  what  was  there,  though  I 
guessed  that  it  was  a  settler's  cabin — some  humble  squat- 
ter's home.  But  that  theory  was  weakened  by  the  ab- 
solute lack  of  noise.  Every  squatter  has  one  or  more 
dogs,  and  they  always  bark  with  all  their  strength  when- 
ever a  stranger  approaches.  Now  not  a  note  was  raised. 
But  the  light  shone  with  a  fixed,  steady  radiance,  pierc- 
ing the  darkness  like  a  lance. 

It  was  none  of  my  business  from  what  the  light  pro- 
ceeded or  who  made  it,  but  I  resolved  to  explore.  The 
necessity  of  finding  my  way  back  to  the  road  was  an  in- 
centive. Among  these  hills  I  might  break  my  neck, 
which  would  be  more  than  a  horse's  cut  knees,  and  if  I 
found  the  origin  of  the  light  I  might  also  find  directions 
to  the  road. 

The  descent  to  the  brook  and  the  ascent  of  the  hill 
beyond  would  be  too  steep  for  the  horse,  and  I  led  him 
back  to  the  summit  of  the  slope,  tethering  him  securely 
to  the  bough  of  a  tree  which  swung  low.  He  was  in  a 


64:  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

state  of  depression  even  surpassing  that  of  his  master. 
The  blood  was  trickling  from  his  wounded  knees,  and 
his  big  body  trembled  like  a  child  afraid.  He  rubbed  his 
wet  head  caressingly  against  me  when  I  turned,  as  if  en- 
treating me  to  stay  and  keep  him  company.  He  was  too 
much  discouraged  to  neigh  or  to  stamp. 

"  I'll  be  back  in  five  minutes,  old  horse,"  I  said  gently 
as  I  stroked  his  nose. 

Then  I  walked  down  the  bank,  picking  my  footing 
carefully  on  the  wet  grass.  When  I  reached  the  bottom 
I  found  a  shallow  stream,  spread  out  two  or  three  yards 
wide  over  boulders  and  pebbles.  From  the  bottom  of 
the  gorge  the  bar  of  light  was  still  visible,  shooting  over 
my  head  and  making  a  luminous  circle  on  the  slope 
which  I  had  left,  every  twig  and  stone  showing  in  that 
limited  area  of  brightness,  while  all  below  was  in  com- 
plete darkness,  even  the  surface  of  the  water  appearing 
but  faintly  where  the  lance  of  light  crossed  above  it. 

The  water  bubbled  softly  over  the  stones,  and  far- 
ther away  I  could  hear  a  dull  plash  as  if  the  stream  were 
going  over  a  fall.  The  sob  of  the  wind  rose  now  and 
then  to  a  shriek. 

I  could  cross  the  stream  only  by  wading,  and  I 
stepped  lightly  into  it,  not  wishing  to  make  any  noise. 
Though  but  two  or  three  miles  from  the  capital  of  a 
great  nation,  I  felt  as  if  I  were  about  to  storm  the  for- 
tress of  an  enemy.  So  it  happens  to  one  sometimes  when 
in  the  dark,  and  alone.  As  I  picked  my  way  up  the  far 
slope  this  feeling  that  caution  was  needed  grew  upon 
me.  I  kept  my  eyes  fixed  upon  the  line  of  light,  which 
streamed  over  the  bushes  like  the  trail  of  a  baby  comet, 
and  guided  me  with  certainty  toward  what  I  sought. 

I  was  confirmed  in  my  guess  that  the  light  came 
from  the  depression  between  two  hills,  but  as  I  advanced, 
parallel  with  the  bar  of  flame,  keeping  out  of  its  rays, 
however,  that  I  might  not  be  seen,  I  was  impressed  more 
than  ever  by  the  absolute  silence  save  for  the  wind  and 


THE  LONE  CABIN.  65 

the  rustling  of  the  trees  and  bushes,  the  trickle  of  the 
water  heing  too  far  away  to  be  heard.  The  old  tales 
of  the  Indian  wars  that  I  had  heard  at  my  mother's 
hearthstone  filled  my  ears,  and  I  seemed  to  be  a  Shawnee 
warrior  stalking  a  settler's  cabin.  Then  I  laughed  at 
myself  in  ridicule  for  conjuring  up  such  things,  and  ex- 
pected that  the  next  moment  some  lazy  dog  would  rush 
out  and  howl  at  me  with  excessive- vigour,  to  atone  for 
his  previous  lack  of  vigilance. 

But  no  dog  came  out  or  barked,  and  at  the  end  of  the 
bar  of  light  a  small  building  slowly  constructed  itself. 
A  patch  of  wall  came  out  of  the  blackness,  and  was  fol- 
lowed by  another  patch,  and  then  another  and  others 
which  joined  themselves  together  until  the  side  of  a 
log  cabin  was  formed.  Then  the  roof,  gently  sloping 
and  of  rough,  long  boards,  followed  the  wall  out  of  the 
darkness,  and  a  complete  cabin,  such  as  the  poorest  of 
negroes  might  inhabit,  st/ood  before  me.  From  a  win- 
dow, or  rather  a  cleft  in  the  wall,  shone  the  light  which 
had  been  my  guide. 

I  could  see  dimly  the  doorway,  so  small  that  it  would 
have  compelled  me  to  stoop  to  enter.  In  ordinary  times 
I  would  have  gone  there  and  knocked,  and  that  was  what 
custom  and  common  politeness  demanded  of  me,  but  I 
still  had  the  feeling  that  I  was  not  in  an  ordinary  situ- 
ation, that  caution  should  be  my  comrade.  So  I  went 
to  the  window  and  peeped,  not  through  it,  but  through 
a  chink  between  the  walls  by  its  side.  I  had  approached 
with  so  much  gentleness  that  I  was  sure  no  one  inside 
could  hear,  but  to  put  my  eye  to  the  chink  I  was  forced 
to  stoop  down  from  my  tall  height. 

I  saw  a  scanty  interior — some  stools,  an  old  table,  and 
walls  as  rough  on  the  inside  as  on  the  outside.  On  the 
table  was  a  lantern,  from  which  had  come  the  beckoning 
light.  Three  men  sat  on  the  stools,  and  the  one  who 
was  beside  the  table  was  my  kinsman,  Major  Gilbert 
Northcote.  His  face  was  turned  toward  me.,  and  even 


66  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

otherwise  I  would  have  recognised  him  by  his  figure. 
His  companions  were  two  men  whom  I  had  never  seen 
hefore.  One  was  tall  and  slender,  and  the  other  short 
and  stout.  Both  were  dressed  like  ordinary  farmers,  but 
their  faces  were  thin  and  keen. 

I  gave  silent  thanks  for  my  loss  of  the  way  and  the 
lameness  of  my  horse,  as  I  believed  that  I  had  happened 
upon  a  meeting  that  would  be  of  interest  and  importance 
to  us.  Gilbert  Northcote,  who  was  in  Washington  only 
to  plan  mischief,  could  not  be  meeting  strangers  at  such 
a  time  and  place  for  any  innocent  purpose. 

The  Tory  rested  one  elbow  on  the  table;  spread  out 
before  him  were  sheets  of  paper,  and  he  held  a  pencil 
in  his  hand;  the  look  of  careless,  even  supercilious  in- 
difference that  was  habitual  with  him  in  Washington  had 
changed  to  one  of  keen  and  concentrated  interest. 

"  What  do  you  say  of  them  in  that  part  of  the  coun- 
try, Walters?  "  he  asked. 

"  Disaffected;  not  disposed  to  risk  anything,"  replied 
the  tall  man. 

Major  Northcote's  face  showed  satisfaction,  and  he 
immediately  made  notes  on  the  paper. 

"  It  confirms  all  the  previous  reports  from  that  quar- 
ter," he  said  when  his  pencil  stopped.  "In  calculating 
the  probable  resistance  I  think  we  might  leave  them 
out." 

His  satisfaction  was  so  great  that  he  tapped  on  the 
table  repeatedly  in  a  contented  manner,  and  puckered  up 
his  lips  as  if  he  would  whistle,  which,  too,  is  usually  a 
sign  of  gladness. 

"Now  what  do  you  say,  Hardison?"  he  asked  the 
short  man.  "How  are  they  in  the  South?" 

"  Very  angry,  but  not  likely  to  furnish  much  when 
the  time  comes,"  said  Hardison.  "  They  are  too  far 
away,  and  their  direct  interests  are  too  little  affected. 
Besides,  their  new  Indian  war  is  going  to  give  them 
plenty  to  do." 


THE  LONE  CABIN.  67 

"  Good  again/'  said  Major  Northcote,  setting  to  work 
a  second  time  with  his  pencil.  "  These  notes  and  my 
maps  will  make  a  fine  budget  for  the  people  in  London. 
Do  you  see  any  mistake  in  this  map?  " 

He  spread  out  one  of  the  broadest  sheets  of  paper  on 
the  table,  and  the  two  men  stood  up  and  examined  it  with 
him.  They  seemed  to  have  no  fault  to  find,  and  the 
Tory  rolled  it  up  again,  but  left  it  on  the  table. 

"  I  think  I  know  Washington  and  its  surroundings 
pretty  thoroughly,"  he  said  in  his  self-satisfied  tone, 
"  and  I've  put  my  knowledge  into  that  map.  It  seems 
almost  superfluous,  though,  to  mark  the  defences,  for 
they  amount  to  nothing." 

"  They  would  amount  to  mighty  little  anyway  before  a 
British  army,"  said  Walters,  the  tall  man,  with  a  laugh. 

"  I  should  think  so,"  said  Major  Northcote. 

"  Having  done  our  work,  we  can  take  a  little  refresh- 
ment now,  lads,"  said  Major  Northcote,  who  seemed  to 
be  in  fine  humour. 

The  man  whom  he  called  Hardison  produced  some 
sliced  meat  and  bread  from  a  knapsack  hanging  on  the 
wall,  though  I  had  not  noticed  it  before,  and  Major 
Northcote  took  out  of  his  coat  pocket  a  large  flask  wound 
with  silver  wire.  He  shook  it  and  it  gave  forth  a  pleas- 
ant gurgle.  He  smiled  and  the  two  men  smiled.  He 
drew  the  stopper,  which  snapped  comfortably  as  it  came 
out,  and  then  all  three  drank,  one  after  another,  from 
the  flask.  The  pleasant  odour  of  the  liquor  permeated 
the  cabin  and  stole  through  the  chink  to  me,  filling  me 
with  unsatisfied  longing.  Then  they  ate. 

I  was  not  sure  what  to  do.  The  notes  and  maps  lay 
upon  the  table,  while  the  men  ate  and  drank,  and  I  knew 
they  would  be  of  value  to  us,  besides  being  a  decisive 
proof  that  Major  Northcote  was  a  dangerous  man,  and 
engaged  in  practices  to  which  our  Government  would 
have  a  right  to  object  in  the  most  emphatic  manner — 
that  is,  by  sending  him  away.  The  scene  between  us  at 


68  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

the  Capitol,  when  he  seemed  to  think  that  I  might  help 
him  in  his  schemes,  still  rankled  a  little  in  my  mind  and 
impelled  me  in  the  way  to  which  duty  so  clearty  pointed. 
It  would  be  to  the  good  of  the  public,  as  well  as  some 
individuals,  that  he  remain  no  longer  in  Washington. 

While  I  thought,  the  question  was  partly  solved  for 
me.  The  two  men  finished  their  eating  and  drinking, 
and  rising  bade  Major  Northcote  good  night.  He  com- 
mended them  for  zeal,  encouraged  them  to  other  good 
work,  and  said  he  would  soon  send  for  them  again.  They 
went  out  and  left  him  sitting  by  the  table,  engrossed  in 
thought. 

The  men  could  not  see  me  on  the  other  side  of  the 
cabin,  and  they  walked  away  without  hesitation  toward 
Washington.  Noticing  that  Major  Northcote  seemed  to 
be  in  no  hurry  to  move,  I  waited  until  the  men  were  so 
far  away  that  they  could  hear  no  noise  from  the  cabin, 
and  then  pushing  the  door  open  I  entered. 

A  single  stride  was  sufficient  to  take  me  to  the  table. 
I  seized  the  roll  of  papers  in  one  hand  and  the  silver 
bound  flask  in  the  other.  The  roll  of  papers  I  thrust 
into  my  trousers'  pocket,  and  the  silver  bound  flask  I 
raised  to  my  lips. 

"  Cousin/'  I  said,  "  I  thank  you  for  both." 

Then  the  pleasant  liquor  trickled  down  my  throat. 
I  repeat  that  I  was  wet  and  cold,  and  the  taste  of  it  was 
fine  and  the  effect  finer. 

It  was  some  pleasure  to  me  to  see  Major  Northcote's 
control  of  himself,  even  in  that  moment  of  surprise  and 
wrath.  He  started,  in  truth,  at  my  sudden  entrance  and 
his  eyeballs  distended  for  a  moment,  but  then  he  was 
himself  again  and  waited. 

"  Excuse  me,  Major  Northcote,"  I  said,  handing  him 
the  flask.  "  It  was  very  good,  but  I  did  not  take  all; 
I  left  some  for  you." 

It  is  obvious  that  I  was  pleased  with  myself,  but  I 
could  not  surpass  him  in  coolness.  He  took  the  flask 


THE  LONE  CABIN.  69 

and  saying,  "Here's  to  the  health  of  forward  young 
men,  Mr.  Ten  Broeck,"  drank  composedly. 

I  inferred  from  his  tone  a  recognition  of  the  fact  that 
we  were  to  face  each  other  as  enemies. 

"I've  come  in  suddenly  and  without  an  invitation," 
I  said,  "  but  I  hope  I'm  none  the  less  welcome." 

I  think  I  was  catching  some  of  his  own  sarcastic 
temper. 

Major  Northcote  rested  his  arm  comfortably  on  the 
table  and  looked  fixedly  at  me.  I  could  see  the  faint 
smile  lightly  touched  with  irony  which  had  marked  him 
when  we  listened  to  the  senatorial  debate,  playing  around 
the  corner  of  his  eyes  and  mouth.  Outside  the  rain  had 
increased  in  violence  and  was  playing  a  steady  tune  on 
the  thin  roof.  I  bore  his  look  without  flinching,  for  I 
felt  that  I  was  more  in  the  right  than  he. 

"  You  think  that  you  have  done  a  clever  thing,"  he 
said  presently. 

"I  can  not  claim  that  my  arrival  was  clever,  but  I 
believe  it  to  have  been  timely.  You  are  attached  to  the 
British  embassy  here,  and  you  are  using  the  opportuni- 
ties that  position  gives  you  to  send  spies  over  the  coun- 
try and  obtain  all  sorts  of  information  that  will  be  useful 
to  our  enemy  in  case  of  war.  You  have  passed  all  the 
bounds  of  international  courtesy,  and  I  have  absolute 
proof  of  it  in  these  maps  and  notes  of  yours  that  I  have 
seized." 

"  And  you  observe  that  I  do  not  even  ask  you  to  give 
them  back  to  me." 

"  Because  you  know  I  would  not  do  it." 

"Not  altogether.  I  would  prefer  not  to  lose  them 
just  at  this  time,  but  since  you  have  them  I  will  not 
make  a  fuss  about  the  matter.  What  do  you  intend  to 
do  with  them?" 

I  said  that  I  would  give  them  to  Mr.  Gallatin,  with 
Major  Northcote's  dismissal  from  Washington  as  the  cer- 
tain result. 


70  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

"  Yes,  that  will  follow/'  he  said,  "  and  I  would  have 
stayed  a  little  longer,  but  perhaps  it  is  not  worth  while. 
My  work  here  is  done,  and  I  am  tired  of  this  muddy  little 
village  in  the  woods,  with  its  ignorant  farmers  and  its 
talking  lawyers  and  its  lack  of  everything  to  make  life 
pleasant  to  a  man  who  can  take  an  interest  in  the  greater 
world  of  affairs  and  men." 

I  had  no  reply  to  make  to  such  talk  as  that,  but  care- 
fully placed  his  papers  in  my  waistcoat  pocket. 

"  I  will  come  back  again,"  he  continued,  "  though  in 
another  role.  I  have  warned  you,  but  you  are  only  a 
boy,  and  perhaps  you  do  not  understand.  Yet  this  coun- 
try is  rapidly  preparing  its  own  overthrow.  I  have  been 
even  willing  to  help  you.  I  have  liked  you  in  a  way, 
and  I  thought  I  saw  promise  in  you.  I  would  have  ar- 
ranged a  brilliant  career  for  you,  but  you  would  not  let 
me  and  you  preferred  to  go  with  the  losers." 

I  thanked  him,  but  now  I  was  neither  dazzled  nor  de- 
ceived, nor  was  I  turned  from  my  determination  to  place 
his  papers  in  the  hands  of  Mr.  Gallatin,  which,  of  course, 
would  mean  the  President's  very  soon  thereafter. 

I  rose  to  go,  and  I  presumed  we  parted  without  any 
personal  hostility. 

"  Certainly,"  he  said,  "  you  are  a  boy  and  my  kins- 
man, and  while  you  are  rash  and  headstrong  sometimes, 
the  fault  is  not  criminal." 

I  thanked  him,  though  I  did  not  believe  he  would 
forgive  my  sudden  arrival  and  seizure  of  his  papers, 
and  went  out,  leaving  him  drumming  his  fingers  upon 
the  table. 

I  stepped  from  the  cabin,  and  a  gust  of  rain,  very 
cold  to  the  skin,  dashed  into  my  face.  I  plunged  down 
the  hillside,  intending  to  reach  my  horse  at  once  and 
push  on  for  "Washington  as  fast  as  I  could.  Halfway 
down,  I  looked  back.  The  cabin  already  was  losing 
itself,  only  a  patch  of  the  wall  showed  through  the  dark- 
ness. But  the  light  still  shone  from  the  window  with 


THE  LONE  CABIN.  71 

the  same  clear,  steady  radiance  that  had  drawn  me  there. 
I  stopped  for  a  moment,  but  I  could  hear  no  movement 
on  the  part  of  Major  Northcote. 

I  could  imagine  that  his  easy  humour  was  only  as- 
sumed, and  that  he  was  not  so  ready  to  go  from  Wash- 
ington as  he  had  boasted.  Still  I  had  no  right  to  feel 
sorry  for  him,  however  well  disposed  toward  me  he  may 
have  been  at  one  time. 

I  reached  the  stream  again,  and,  wading  across  it, 
climbed  up  the  hillside  to  my  horse.  He  received  me 
with  a  faint  neigh,  and  actually  quivered  with  joy  when 
I  put  my  hand  upon  his  head  and  stroked  it.  I  think 
he  was  both  lonely  and  afraid.  I  took  him  by  the  bridle, 
and  we  resumed  our  interrupted  procession  through  the 
forest,  I  going  first  and  the  horse  following.  I  looked 
over  my  shoulder  at  the  beam  of  light  which  shot  from 
the  cabin  window,  but  it  faded  rapidly  as  we  moved 
away,  and  in  a  few  moments  was  gone. 

I  had  a  good  general  idea  of  the  direction  of  Wash- 
ington, and  bearing  back  toward  the  road  I  soon  struck  it 
again.  Though  it  was  still  dark  and  the  rain  was  lashing 
me  in  the  face,  I  knew  the  road  by  the  depth  of  the  mud, 
and  reversing  our  positions  I  sent  the  horse  ahead  and 
followed  close  behind,  trusting  to  his  instinct  to  lead  us 
right.  He  plodded  bravely  on,  as  if  he  were  encouraged 
by  my  return  to  his  company,  and  presently  I  could  see 
the  dim  shadow  of  large  buildings  which  brought  to  me 
the  knowledge  that  I  was  entering  the  capital  again. 

No  one  was  about,  not  even  a  watchman,  and  I  could 
not  see  a  light  in  any  window.  Washington  was  taking 
its  night's  rest  very  seriously,  which  was  fitting  in  the 
capital  of  a  sober  people,  but  it  reminded  me  what  a 
small  and  crude  place  it  was,  where  not  even  a  light  met 
a  man  entering. 

I  took  my  horse  to  the  stable,  lighted  a  lantern,  which 
was  always  kept  there,  bandaged  his  bruised  knees,  and 
fed  him.  Then  I  went  to  my  own  room  in  the  Six 


72  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

Buildings,  still  unobserved,  for  everybody  was  sleeping. 
I  looked  at  myself  in  the  little  glass,  and  beheld  an  ani- 
mated statue  of  mud,  for  it  had  splashed  all  over  me, 
even  to  my  face,  and  was  drying  there. 

I  washed  the  mud  off  my  face,  put  my  clothes  on  a 
chair  and  Major  Northcote's  papers  under  my  pillow, 
and  went  to  sleep. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

I   BECEIVE  A   COMMISSION. 

THE  coloured  boy  awoke  me  at  the  usual  time  the 
next  morning,  and  though  still  tired  and  sleepy  I  went 
to  breakfast.  That  was  the  period  when  we  ate  heavy 
and  hearty  breakfasts  and  had  no  complaint  to  make. 
I  had  a  big  cup  of  coffee,  hot  bread,  toast  soaked  in  but- 
ter, fat  cheese,  and  slices  of  ham  and  hung  beef,  the  cus- 
tomary Washington  breakfast  of  the  time,  and  as  I  ate 
them,  one  after  another,  my  condition  as  a  man  improved 
steadily. 

Then  I  hastened  to  the  Treasury,  and  when  Mr.  Gal- 
latin  arrived  said  to  him  at  once  that  I  had  something 
of  importance  to  tell  him. 

"I  hope  it's  not  political,  Philip,"  he  said  humor- 
ously. 

"  But  it  is,  Mr.  Gallatin,"  I  replied. 

He  looked  sorrowful,  as  if  something  else  would  be 
a  relief,  but  told  me  to  go  on.  Then  I  produced  the 
maps  and  notes  and  explained  how  I  had  obtained  them. 
I  said  that  I  was  very  reluctant  to  inform  against  my  own 
kinsman,  but  I  believed  I  ought  to  do  it. 

"  You  have  decided  wisely  and  honourably,"  he  said. 
"Major  Northcote  is  an  able  and  dangerous  man.  Of 
course  we  will  have  to  send  him  away  now,  whatever 
the  British  Government  may  say  about  it,  and  we  would 
have  done  so  sooner  had  so  good  an  excuse  been  given  to 
us.  As  you  saw  the  other  night,  we  are  on  tenter-hooks 
and  have  to  be  extremely  careful.  But  we  are  hoping 
6  73 


74  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

for  better  relations  before  long  with  England,  and  that 
she  will  make  some  sort  of  atonement  for  her  outrages. 
At  least,  we  are  to  receive  a  minister  from  that  country 
soon,  as  you  know  they  have  had  nobody  here  since  we 
sent  away  that  intolerable  Jackson. 

He  said  nothing  more  to  me  about  the  matter,  but  I 
heard  the  next  day  that  Major  Gilbert  Northcote  of  the 
British  legation  had  been  notified  by  the  Government 
that  he  would  no  longer  be  recognised  in  any  official 
capacity,  and  the  Government  trusted  that  he  would  see 
the  propriety  of  leaving  Washington  at  once.  Major 
Northcote  saw  the  propriety,  so  he  was  reported  to  have 
said,  and  prepared  for  instant  departure.  I  did  not  ex- 
pect to  see  him  again,  but  he  called  on  me  that  evening 
at  my  room  and  bade  me  a  polite  adieu.  I  replied  in 
like  manner,  and  he  left.  Mercer  told  me  the  next  day 
that  I  was  well  rid  of  an  evil  friend,  but  while  I  felt 
some  satisfaction  over  his  departure  I  was  sorry  that 
some  other  than  myself  had  not  been  the  cause  of  it. 
This,  too,  I  found  to  be  Marian's  view  of  the  case  when 
next  I  saw  her,  though  she  had  no  blame  for  me. 

'  I  was  somewhat  surprised  two  days  later,  as  I  was 
about  to  leave  our  office,  when  our  chief,  for  so  I  called 
Mr.  Gallatin,  asked  me  to  visit  him  at  his  room  that 
night.  "  It  is  important,"  he  said,  and  impressed  by  his 
manner  I  hastened  my  supper  and  was  in  front  of  the 
house  in  which  he  boarded  at  least  half  an  hour  before 
the  appointed  time.  I  walked  up  and  down  the  street 
to  pass  that  period  of  waiting,  and  when  it  had  expired 
knocked  at  his  door. 

The  Secretary  was  writing  at  a  little  desk,  and  his 
only  light  was  a  tallow  candle.  He  seemed  to  live  night 
and  day  among  his  parchments  and  other  papers.  He  re- 
ceived me  quite  hospitably  and  cheerfully,  and  came  at 
once  to  the  point  he  had  in  mind,  though  I  liked  his  in- 
troductory words  but  little. 

"  Philip,"  he  said,  "  you  have  been  a  good  clerk  for 


I  RECEIVE  A  COMMISSION.  75 

me,  but  I  am  going  to  give  you  other  work  to  do 
now." 

I  was  surprised,  but  I  said  nothing. 

"You  are  curious,"  he  said,  "but  I  will  not  keep 
your  curiosity  waiting.  We  are  going  to  send  you  on  a 
journey,  a  long  one." 

"  When  do  you  wish  me  to  go?  "  I  asked. 

"  To-morrow,"  he  said.  "  You  will  perhaps  be  sur- 
prised when  I  explain  to  you  what  your  new  duties  are  to 
be.  Sit  down  there,  because  it  will  take  me  some  time  to 
tell  you." 

I  took  the  chair  that  he  had  indicated  and  waited  in 
much  wonder. 

"  I  am  about  to  give  you  a  very  important  task  for 
one  so  young  and  without  great  experience,"  he  said, 
speaking  in  a  tone  of  the  utmost  seriousness,  "  but  it  is 
partly  because  you  are  young  and  inexperienced  that  you 
have  been  selected,  as  much  by  the  President  as  myself." 

My  wonder  increased,  but  still  I  said  nothing. 

"  You  know,  Philip,  the  extremely  precarious  situ- 
ation of  this  Government  and  people.  We  are  in  danger 
of  being  crushed  to  death  by  the  rival  powers  of  England 
and  France,  which  have  arrayed  one  half  of  Europe 
against  the  other  half,  and  we  are  plundered  and  robbed 
by  both.  It  begins  to  be  evident  that  we  must  fight, 
despite  all  the  sacrifices  that  we  have  made  and  humili- 
ations that  we  have  endured  to  avoid  it,  and  it  is  Eng- 
land whom  we  will  have  to  choose  as  our  foe.  But,  un- 
fortunately, we  are  not  united  among  ourselves.  We  are 
sixteen  or  eighteen  petty  republics,  each  with  its  own  in- 
terests, and  several  combining  to  form  sectional  groups. 
The  national  or  common  Government  is  weak,  and  no  one 
knows  whether  it  can  hold  together  under  the  shock  of 
war.  The  West  is,  and  long  has  been,  eager  for  the  con- 
test. New  England,  which  has  suffered  most  from  the 
rapacity  and  arrogance  of  Great  Britain,  is  nevertheless 
against  the  war,  because  she  thinks,  and  probably  thinks 


76  A  HERALD   OF  THE  WEST. 

correctly,  that  her  great  commerce  will  be  ruined  by  the 
English  fleet,  which  will  outnumber  our  own  at  least 
forty  or  fifty  to  one,  and  is  but  little  needed  in  Europe, 
owing  to  the  destruction  of  the  Continental  navies  at  the 
Nile,  Copenhagen,  and  Trafalgar.  We  do  not  even  know 
that  New  England  would  help  us  should  we  declare  war, 
nor  do  we  know  what  position  the  great  and  wealthy 
State  of  New  York  will  take.  Pennsylvania,  we  are  sure, 
will  go  with  the  West  and  South,  but  that  alone  is  not 
sufficient.  We  invite  a  quick  and  crushing  defeat  by 
going  into  the  war  without  New  England  and  New  York. 
Even  with  them  our  chance  is  desperate,  without  a  navy, 
without  a  regular  army,  without  military  supplies,  without 
money,  with  a  Government  that  has  not  yet  been  tested, 
with  a  sparse  population  scattered  over  vast  areas,  with- 
out any  of  the  resources  of  war  except  the  raw  material 
of  human  flesh  and  bones  which  will  have  to  be  drawn 
from  immense  distances  and  beaten  into  something  like 
military  shape  by  defeats.  The  best  that  we  can  hope 
for  is  defeat  first  and  victory  afterward,  instead  of  de- 
feat first  and  defeat  afterward  and  always." 

He  made  this  long  speech  with  slowness  and  delib- 
eration. 

"I  hope  that  you  have  listened  to  every  word,  and 
that  you  fully  understand,"  he  said. 

"  I  think  I  do." 

"Well,  you  see  that  it  is  of  the  greatest  importance 
to  the  Government  to  learn  the  exact  state  of  feeling  in 
New  York  and  New  England,  not  merely  of  a  few  leading 
men,  but  among  the  great  mass  of  the  public.  Promi- 
nent and  wealthy  men,  as  a  rule,  know  only  the  feelings 
of  those  in  like  position.  But  we  want  to  know  what  the 
masses  and  young  men  think,  and  especially  what  the 
young  men  would  most  likely  do,  for  it  is  they  who  always 
fight  the  wars.  Now,  we  have  chosen  you  as  one  of  those 
who  are  to  go  and  find  out  for  us.  Don't  hunt  up  the 
politicians.  If  you  hear  of  any  man  who  is  called  promi- 


I  RECEIVE  A  COMMISSION.  77 

nent,  whose  name  appears  frequently  in  the  newspapers, 
avoid  him.  These  are  the  men  who  may  bring  on  wars, 
but  they  rarely  fight  them.  Go  among  the  young  men  of 
your  own  age;  be  a  good  fellow  with  them.  Go  into  good 
society;  you  have  a  good  appearance,  decent  manners,  and 
you  are  of  a  good  family.  We  will  give  you  letters.  Talk 
to  the  women  as  much  as  you  can,  especially  to  handsome 
or  witty  ones.  They  have  far  more  influence  than  you 
think  in  bringing  about  declarations  of  war  or  peace." 

He  spoke  with  much  earnestness,  and  I  was  im- 
pressed. Moreover,  my  enthusiasm  began  to  rise.  Here 
was  a  mission  which  would  be  both  important  and  agree- 
able, a  coincidence  which  seldom  happens. 

"  Go  around,  too,  among  the  poorer  people,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  day  labourers  and  others — stray  out  among  the 
farmers  and  talk  with  them  all.  Let  them  think  you  are 
a  mere  traveller  for  pleasure,  then  they  will  talk  freely 
to  you,  where  they  would  be  reserved  with  a  public  man. 
They  will  disguise  nothing  from  you." 

"When  do  you  wish  me  to  start?"  I  asked. 

"  In  two  days,"  he  said.  "  Come  here  to-morrow 
evening,  and  I  will  give  you  letters  and  some  money.  I 
will  annouce  that  you  have  resigned  and  gone  North  and 
East  to  see  our  great  cities  and  complete  your  knowledge 
of  the  world." 

"  Can  not  I  tell  my  father  the  exact  facts?  "  I  asked. 
I  was  afraid  when  he  heard  of  my  departure  that  he  would 
think  I  had  been  in  some  trouble. 

"  Yes,  you  may  do  that,"  said  the  Secretary,  "  but 
caution  him  to  keep  your  information  to  himself.  We 
can  trust  him,  I  know.  I  think  you  had  better  take  pas- 
sage by  the  stagecoach  line,  as  you  will  attract  less  at- 
tention in  that  manner  than  if  you  were  to  go  horseback. 
You  can  spend  two  or  three  days  in  Philadelphia,  a  little 
longer  in  New  York,  and  then  go  on  to  Boston.  Boston 
is  the  point  from  which  we  are  most  anxious  to  obtain 
accurate  information,  and  on  your  return  journey  we 


78  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

want  you  to  make  a  long  stop  in  New  York.  Now,  good 
night,  and  think  well  over  your  plans." 

I  did  not  forget  to  thank  him  for  what  I  deemed  a 
great  honour,  and  I  left  the  room  full  of  joyful  antici- 
pations. It  was  a  relief  to  me  to  escape  from  office  work, 
and  then  such  a  mission  to  the  great  towns,  in  such  a 
capacity,  contained  the  promise  of  many  and  varied  ex- 
periences. It  was  finer  fortune  than  I  had  any  right  to 
expect,  and  I  wanted  to  raise  my  voice  and  give  a  shout 
for  my  good  luck.  But  the  saving  sense  of  gravity  in- 
tervened, and  my  thoughts  turned  from  my  own  good 
luck  to  our  difficulties. 

I  went  to  my  room,  and  there  wrote  a  long  letter  to 
my  father,  describing  all  my  interview  with  Mr.  Gallatin, 
down  to  the  last  word.  I  finished  the  letter,  sealed  it, 
and  addressed  it.  I  knew  it  would  please  my  father. 
It  would  bring  back  his  own  youth,  and  he  would  be 
proud  of  me.  I  could  think  that  without  egotism. 

The  writing  done,  I  began  to  pack,  which  was  not  a 
long  or  tedious  task.  I  put  all  my  clothing  in  a  small 
leather  trunk  which  had  been  taken  by  my  father  from 
New  York  to  Kentucky,  and  given  by  him  to  me.  I  also 
put  in  a  large  pistol  and  some  ammunition.  One  can 
never  tell  what  is  going  to  happen  in  strange  places  and 
in  troubled  times.  All  these  things  finished,  it  was  near 
midnight,  and  I  had  time  to  reflect  that  as  I  was  not 
to  start  until  the  day  after  to-morrow  it  was  not  worth 
while  to  lose  sleep. 

I  went  to  the  office  the  next  morning  and  worked  as 
usual,  but  when  I  went  out  after  my  dinner  I  found  that 
Mr.  Gallatin  had  already  announced  my  resignation  and 
my  forthcoming  Eastern  tour  for  the  purpose  of  broad- 
ening my  mind  with  a  knowledge  of  the  great  world. 

"Is  it  really  true,  Phil,"  asked  Mercer,  who  sat  in 
his  usual  seat  beside  me,  "that  you  have  resigned  and 
are  going  East  to  improve  your  mind?  " 

"  It's  a  fact,  Tom/'  I  replied. 


I  RECEIVE  A  COMMISSION.  79 

"Perhaps  you  are  not  going  wholly  at  your  own  ex- 
pense/' he  said,  looking  me  squarely  in  the  eye.  "  You 
have  always  heen  a  lucky  man,  Phil;  lucky  in  many 
things." 

A  little  sadness  appeared  in  his  tone  as  he  spoke  the 
last  words,  and  I  was  silent. 

Both  Bidwell  and  Cyrus  Pendleton  congratulated  me 
on  my  coming  journey,  and  enlarged  on  the  pleasures  I 
would  find  in  the  Eastern  cities,  but  neither  was  able  to 
hide  from  me  the  sense  of  relief  that  he  felt  at  my  de- 
parture, though  I  gave  no  hint  in  reply  that  I  under- 
stood. 

I  saw  Marian  the  evening  before  I  left,  and  I  let 
her  divine  that  my  going  from  Washington  at  this  time 
was  not  altogether  of  my  own  choice.  Perhaps  she 
needed  no  suggestion  from  me  to  tell  her  this. 

"  I  hope,"  I  said,  "  that  when  I  return  I  will  find 
everything  here  unchanged." 

"  Everything  will  be  unchanged,"  she  said,  meeting 
my  gaze  firmly. 

Then  she  gave  me  the  pressure  of  her  hand,  and  I  said 
good-bye,  going  away  secure  in  the  belief  that  one  wom- 
an's hopes  would  accompany  me  on  my  travels,  some- 
thing that  every  man  should  wish  to  have. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A  JOURNEY  IN  THE   WORLD. 

I  BEGAN  the  next  morning  my  great  journey  in  the 
world.  It  was  scarcely  daylight,  the  stagecoach  taking 
an  early  start  in  order  to  reach  Baltimore  the  same  day, 
but  early  as  it  was  Mercer,  Courtenay,  Charlton,  and  two 
or  three  other  good  friends  of  mine  came  to  see  me  off. 
They  wished  me  good  luck,  said  enviously  that  they 
would  like  to  be  going  with  me,  shook  hands,  and  then 
I  climbed  upon  the  front  seat.  The  driver,  who  sat  be- 
side me,  blew  his  horn,  cracked  his  whip,  and  with  a 
lurch  and  a  mighty  rattle  we  were  off. 

At  that  day  a  journey  to  New  York  and  Boston  was 
not  often  taken  by  a  Kentuckian,  and  I  was  overflowing 
with  enthusiasm  and  anticipations,  while  my  parting  with 
Marian  had  left  enough  of  tender  recollection  to  make 
me  look  forward,  too,  to  my  return. 

The  sun  was  just  rising  over  the  eastern  hills,  flush- 
ing the  horizon  a  rosy  red,  which  faded  into  pink  toward 
the  zenith.  The  surface  of  the  river  gleamed  with  spots 
of  rose  or  silver,  and  golden  rays  shot  from  the  walls  of 
the  Capitol.  The  day  was  crisp  and  cold,  but  I  was  well 
wrapped  in  my  greatcoat,  and  the  air  was  so  fresh  to  the 
lungs  that  I  could  have  leaped  and  shouted  with  the 
mere  joy  of  living. 

The  big  coach  rattled  over  the  stones  of  the  new 

turnpike,  and  we  were  soon  beyond  Washington  and  into 

the  forest.      After  leaving  the  city,  habitation  seemed 

almost  to  cease;  once  or  twice  we  saw  distant  smoke 

80 


A  JOURNEY  IN  THE  WORLD.  81 

rising  over  the  treetops,  and  we  thought  it  must  mark  a 
farm  house,  but  on  either  side  of  us  was  the  dense  and 
untouched  forest.  Sometimes  the  trees  were  so  thick 
and  their  branches  projected  so  far  over  the  road  that  in 
summer,  when  in  full  foliage,  they  must  have  formed  a 
perfect  canopy  for  travellers.  Under  the  trees  I  could 
see  the  tender  young  grass  appearing,  and  the  increasing 
buds  marked  the  advance  of  the  southern  spring,  per- 
haps already  in  full  bloom  far  down  on  the  Gulf  and  now 
creeping  steadily  northward. 

I  turned  my  head  to  take  a  last  look  at  Washington, 
but  it  was  already  shut  out  by  the  forest  which  circled 
around  it,  as  an  island  is  surrounded  by  the  sea. 

The  night  was  at  hand  when  we  drove  into  Balti- 
more. I  had  been  there  before  on  brief  trips  from  Wash- 
ington, but  it  was  always  a  delight  to  me,  coming  from 
our  lazy  capital  of  not  more  than  five  thousand  inhabit- 
ants into  this  great  busy  city  of  forty  thousand.  The 
lamps  were  burning  in  the  streets  as  we  drove  through 
them,  throwing  patches  of  light  upon  the  brick  houses. 
The  tall  spires  of  the  churches  cut  the  dusky  sky. 

In  the  streets  were  sailors  from  the  packets  which  were 
carrying  the  name  of  Baltimore  throughout  the  world, 
and  although  it  was  full  nine  o'clock,  not  only  the  sailors 
but  many  others  were  about,  making  the  place  as  lively 
as  some  towns  in  the  daytime. 

I  was  to  stay  in  Baltimore  a  day,  to  cash  Mr.  Gal- 
latin's  drafts  on  the  branch  bank  of  the  United  States, 
and  also  some  private  drafts  of  my  own  on  the  Bank  of 
Maryland,  and  went  out  early  the  next  morning  to  at- 
tend to  the  finances  of  Philip  Ten  Broeck,  Esq.  Find- 
ing that  the  bank  doors  were  not  yet  opened,  I  strolled 
about  the  city,  admiring  its  fine  buildings  and  the  indus- 
try of  its  inhabitants. 

Both  the  houses  and  the  people  interested  me,  and  I 
found  plenty  of  strangers  who  were  polite  enough  to 
point  out  to  me  the  places  of  interest.  I  saw  the  prin- 


82  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

cipal  markets — Hanover,  Marsh,  and  Fell's  Point — and 
what  I  admired  about  them  most  were  the  great  heaps 
of  fish  of  a  hundred  varieties,  the  oysters  and  the  crabs 
and  the  lobsters  and  the  wild  ducks  from  the  Chesapeake. 

A  little  later  I  cashed  my  drafts  and  then  strayed 
back  to  the  Marsh  Market,  where  I  was  watching  a  great 
pile  of  fish,  whose  scales  glistened  in  the  sun,  mingled 
white  and  silver,  when  some  one  put  his  hand  lightly 
upon  my  arm  and  said: 

"  And  you,  too,  are  on  your  travels,  kinsman?  " 

I  looked  around,  and  there  was  Major  Northcote, 
calm,  dignified,  and,  as  usual,  dressed  with  European 
care. 

"  Yes,  I  travel,  but  from  choice,"  I  could  not  refrain 
from  saying. 

"I  am  fairly  hit,"  he  said,  showing  no  anger,  "but 
I  am  in  the  enemy's  country;  I  must  expect  it." 

He  began  to  tell  me  about  the  great  European  cities, 
and,  unwholesome  as  I  believed  such  company  to  be  for 
me,  I  listened  a  while  as  we  walked  on  together.  It 
seemed  strange  that  I  should  find  his  society  agreeable 
after  our  misadventures,  and  reflecting  upon  it  I  decided 
that  I  ought  to  leave  him.  I  bade  him  good  day  as 
politely  as  I  could,  and  he  replied  in  like  manner,  saying 
we  might  become  fellow-travellers,  and  if  chance  so  willed 
it  he  would  be  pleased. 

I  returned  to  my  tavern,  and  the  next  morning 
started  for  Philadelphia,  having  no  intention  to  linger 
in  Baltimore,  whose  state  of  mind  could  not  be  mistaken 
by  our  Government,  owing  to  its  nearness  to  Washing- 
ton. When  I  climbed  upon  the  stagecoach  my  kinsman, 
Major  Northcote,  bade  me  a  cheery  good  morning  from 
his  seat  just  behind  me,  and,  as  was  fit,  I  replied  in  like 
manner. 

The  other  passengers  were  looking  at  the  Tory  in 
a  rather  curious  and  by  no  means  friendly  manner,  their 
hostility  being  invited  by  the  British  cut  of  his  clothes 


A  JOURNEY  IN  THE  WORLD.  83 

and  beard,  matters  about  which  he  was  always  very  par- 
ticular. But  he  received  their  glances  with  supreme  in- 
difference, and  I  felt  sure  that  he  preferred  their  disap- 
proval. I  thought  it  best  to  avoid  further  conversation 
with  him  at  present,  and  not  indicate  to  the  other  pas- 
sengers that  we  were  kinsmen  and  old  acquaintances. 
This  policy  seemed  to  be  his  own  also,  and  I  settled  my- 
self for  the  journey. 

We  drove  along  very  merrily  at  the  good  rate  of  three 
miles  an  hour,  and  were  blessed  with  another  beautiful 
day,  the  signs  of  spring  increasing.  I  could  almost  see 
the  buds  opening.  The  green  hues  of  field  and  forest 
deepened  as  the  wind  from  the  south  blew  upon  them. 
The  brooks  shimmered  among  the  trees,  and  the  little 
ponds  in  the  fields  were  made  of  molten  silver. 

We  were  in  the  fields  now,  and  the  green  tint  of  com- 
ing spring  rose  above  the  brown  of  departing  winter. 
The  road  cut  through  the  meadows  like  a  long  white 
sword  blade  and  entered  the  woods.  The  flush  of  spring, 
not  the  spring  that  was  here,  but  the  spring  that  was 
coming,  touched  everything.  The  sun  had  not  been  up 
long,  and  its  rays  still  burned  in  red  and  gold  on  the 
eastern  hills.  Beads  of  dew  twinkled  on  the  grass. 
Fields  and  foliage  were  fresh  from  their  night  bath.  In 
a  pasture  beside  the  road  two  colts  leaped  and  romped 
with  physical  joy.  But  I  was  not  alone  in  feeling  the 
influence,  of  a  beautiful  sunny  morning.  Its  effect  was 
visible  on  all,  even  Major  Northcote.  Some  of  the  men 
whistled,  one  woman  hummed  a  song  in  a  very  low  voice, 
and  the  Tory  looked  about  with  the  air  of  a  man  who 
could  enjoy  a  crisp  day  and  peaceful  rural  scenery. 

"  It's  a  fine  day,  Philip,"  he  said  presently  to  me. 

"  Yes,  Major  Northcote,"  I  said,  "  as  fine  as  you  could 
find  even  in  your  perfect  England." 

I  said  it  with  a  little  malice,  for  his  slurs  upon  us 
still  rankled. 

"  We  will  not  argue  that  point,"  he  said  lightly. 


84  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

The  others  looked  at  him  with  more  interest  and  at- 
tention, and  with  increasing  hostility.  Englishmen 
were  not  popular  with  us,  and  such  Major  Northcote 
considered  and  styled  himself,  though  a  born  American. 

"  He  called  you  Major  Northcote,  and  spoke  of  you  as 
an  Englishman;  are  you  a  major  in  the  British  army?" 
asked  one  Luttrell,  a  Pennsylvania  stock  trader,  a  rough- 
looking  man,  but  of  open  and  honest  face. 

"In  the  Canadian  militia,  my  friend,  which  is  the 
same  thing,"  returned  Major  Northcote  politely. 

"  Then  this  is  not  the  country  for  you,"  said  Lut- 
trell. "We  don't  love  Englishmen,  and  still  less  the 
renegades  in  Canada  who  call  themselves  Englishmen." 

"  The  men  in  Canada  whom  you  call  renegades,"  said 
Major  Northcote  smoothly,  "  are  not  renegades.  They 
are  exiles;  exiles  because  they  were  true  to  what  they 
think  was  right." 

It  may  have  been  an  unwise  speech  to  make,  time  and 
place  considered,  but  Major  Northcote  was  a  man  of  un- 
surpassed courage.  At  that  moment  the  driver  pulled 
up  at  a  blacksmith's  shop  beside  the  road,  and  announced 
that  he  would  have  the  horses'  shoes  examined  there, 
suggesting  that  we  improve  the  opportunity  by  getting 
out  and  stretching  our  legs.  We  were  all  glad  to  do  so. 
Major  Northcote  climbed  down  from  his  seat  with  the 
rest  of  us,  and  strolled  back  and  forth  by  the  roadside. 

The  blacksmith  examined  carefully  the  feet  of  every 
horse.  He  was  far  in  years,  and  his  was  a  little  shanty 
almost  hid  by  the  encroaching  woods.  He  seemed  to 
me  to  be  too  old  and  feeble  for  such  work. 

"Why  don't  you  have  somebody  to  help  you?"  I 
asked,  as  he  put  down  one  horse's  foot  and  prepared  to 
pick  up  another. 

"  I  haven't  the  money  to  pay  for  it,"  he  said. 

"  Haven't  you  any  sons  to  help  you?  " 

"No;  I  have  one  son,  but  he  is  not  a  blacksmith." 

"What  is  he?" 


A  JOURNEY  IN  THE  WORLD.  85 

"  A  Bailor." 

"  Perhaps  that's  a  better  trade  than  blacksmithing." 

"  I  guess  not,"  he  said,  shaking  his  head  sadly,  "  at 
least  not  the  way  he's  practising  it." 

"Why?" 

"  He's  on  a  British  man-of-war  somewhere  off  the 
north  coast  of  Europe,  blockading  the  French;  impressed 
out  of  the  schooner  Sally  Jones  in  the  Chesapeake  years 
ago  and  forced  to  fight  for  the  English.  I  guess  he'll 
never  come  back  again,  an'  there's  plenty  more  like  him. 
An'  our  Government  hasn't  done  a  thing.  I  say,  damn 
a  government  that  doesn't  protect  its  own  citizens! " 

He  bent  down  his  old  face,  and  went  on  stolidly  with 
his  horseshoeing.  Several  of  the  passengers  had  heard 
him.  Among  them  was  Luttrell. 

"  Here,  you  infernal  renegade,"  he  called  out  to  Major 
Northcote,  "  do  you  hear  what  this  man  says  about  his 
son?  It's  all  you  and  your  dirty  English  are  good  for, 
man  stealing." 

Major  Northcote  turned  flaming  eyes  upon  the  man 
when  he  heard  the  epithet  applied  to  him,  and  his  lips 
moved  as  if  he  would  say  something,  but  he  checked  the 
reply  and  continued  his  measured  tread  back  and  forth. 

I  did  not  feel  called  upon  to  interfere. 

"Here  you,  you  Tory!"  said  Luttrell,  who  seemed 
suddenly  to  have  conceived  of  himself  as  some  sort  of 
retributive  justice.  "  Come  here,  and  answer  to  this 
man  for  his  son!  The  one  for  the  other,  I  say." 

"I  know  nothing  about  the  man's  son,"  said  Major 
Northcote.  "I  never  heard  of  him  before  in  my  life, 
but  if  he's  serving  in  the  British  navy,  I've  no  doubt 
it's  a  good  thing  for  him."  He  seemed  to  think  that  the 
time  had  come  for  plain  words,  though  I  believed  that  he 
did  not  estimate  rightly  the  man  who  was  talking  to  him. 

"  Do  you  think  so?  "  said  Luttrell;  "  then  I  say  again 
the  one  for  the  other.  Since  this  man's  son  has  been 
kidnapped  to  serve  in  the  British  navy,  why  not  put 


86  A  HERALD   OF  THE  WEST. 

Major  Northcote,  of  the  British  army,  or  the  Canadian 
militia,  which  is  the  same  thing,  at  work  in  the  black- 
smith shop  in  his  place.  Come  now,  Major  Northcote, 
you  have  a  strong  arm,  pull  the  bellows  for  a  while. 
What  do  you  say  to  the  swap,  lads?  " 

The  other  men  in  the  party  welcomed  the  suggestion 
as  a  happy  thought.  Perhaps  some  of  them  had  a  rela- 
tive or  a  friend  who  had  been  kidnapped  by  a  British 
war  ship.  It  was  very  likely. 

"  Try  the  forge,  Major,"  said  one;  "  you'll  like  it." 

A  deep  flush  spread  over  Major  Northcote's  face. 
The  threat  of  personal  indignity  reached  the  quick,  but 
he  said  nothing,  merely  continuing  his  military  stride  up 
and  down.  I  did  not  know  what  to  do,  and  not  knowing 
waited. 

"  Since  you  won't  hear,  we'll  have  to  make  you  hear," 
said  Luttrell,  striding  up  to  him  and  laying  his  hand 
upon  his  arm. 

The  major  clinched  his  fist  and  struck  Luttrell  in  the 
face  with  such  force  that  he  fell  to  the  earth.  Then  he 
faced  the  crowd,  red  with  anger,  and  defiant. 

"  You  dogs!  "  he  said.  There  was  nothing  assumed 
about  him  now.  The  real  man  was  showing. 

Then  a  new  and  alarming  cry  was  raised. 

"Kemember  the  Chesapeake!"  shouted  some  one. 
"  Don't  forget  her  men  who  were  murdered  by  the  Brit- 
ish! A  life  for  theirs!  " 

The  others  took  it  up,  and  the  forge  and  the  black- 
smithing  were  forgotten.  All  had  the  fate  of  the  Chesa- 
peake's  men  in  their  minds,  and  his  striking  the  first 
blow  roused  the  spirit  of  revenge.  "  Hang  him! "  they 
shouted;  "  he's  a  British  spy  anyway,  and  it  will  be  one 
for  our  own  men  who  have  been  killed!  " 

Luttrell  was  up  again,  bleeding  in  the  face,  and  he 
seized  Major  Northcote  by  the  shoulder.  Some  one  ran 
to  the  blacksmith's  for  a  rope.  The  major  struck  at 
Luttrell  again,  but  his  arm  was  warded  off,  and  he  re- 


A  JOURNEY  IN  THE  WORLD.  87 

ceived  in  return  a  heavy  blow  in  the  face  which  drew 
blood.  The  red  drops  fell  on  his  mustache,  and  spat- 
tered thence  on  his  white  stock.  But  only  that  glimpse 
of  his  face  was  permitted  to  me,  for  the  next  moment 
the  crowd  was  upon  him,  and  a  wild  struggle  followed. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  affair  I  had  not  known  how 
to  interfere,  and  the  cry  to  hang  Major  Northcote  had 
come  so  suddenly,  and  had  been  followed  by  action  so 
quickly,  that  time  to  do  anything  had  been  lacking 
hitherto.  Now  I  rushed  forward,  and  seizing  Luttrell, 
threw  him  back  with  such  violence  that  he  turned 
head  over  heels.  I  served  another  in  like  manner,  and 
pushed  a  third  back  with  my  hand.  Then  I  was  able 
to  get  at  the  major,  and  I  jerked  him  out  of  their 
hands. 

"Are  you  gone  crazy,  men?"  I  shouted.  "Do  you 
know  what  a  crime  you  are  trying  to  commit?  " 

"  They've  killed  our  people.  Why  shouldn't  we  put 
one  of  theirs  out  of  the  way?"  said  one  of  them  in  a 
voice  that  sullen  and  still  threatening. 

It  is  curious  how  the  blood-lust  rises,  and  what  a 
strong  hold  it  sometimes  takes  of  men  who  are  peaceful 
and  amiable  in  their  ordinary  lives. 

"  That's  true,"  I  said  in  reply  to  him,  "  but  we  will 
have  ample  revenge  for  it  all  some  day.  A  crime  by  us 
does  not  avenge  crimes  committed  by  them." 

Several  crowded  up,  as  if  they  would  carry  out  their 
sudden  violent  impulse  anyhow. 

"  This  man  is  my  kinsman,"  I  said,  "  and  even  if  he 
is  a  Tory,  I  am  as  good  an  American  as  any  of  you,  and 
you  shall  not  put  your  hands  upon  him  again." 

I  was  growing  angry,  and  fortunately  my  size  was  im- 
posing. By  good  luck,  Luttrell,  who  had  received  the 
blow,  came  to  my  assistance. 

"He  is  right,  boys,"  he  said;  "leave  the  man  alone, 
and  we'll  pay  'em  back  in  a  better  way  some  day." 

That  was  sufficient,  and  they  dropped  their  project 


88  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

as  suddenly  as  they  had  conceived  it,  turning  away  and 
leaving  Major  Northcote  to  do  as  he  pleased. 

I  was  standing  beside  the  major,  with  my  hand  upon 
his  arm,  for  I  had  determined  to  protect  him  to  the  best 
of  my  ability.  I  felt  sincerely  sorry  for  him,  as  to  such 
a  man  blows  and  the  loss  of  his  dignity  were  a  grievous 
insult.  His  hat  had  been  knocked  off,  his  gray  hair  was 
awry,  and  his  face  was  red,  except  where  it  was  blue 
around  the  bruise  that  he  had  received;  the  blood  was 
still  dripping  upon  his  mustache  and  his  collar  and  shoul- 
ders, and  his  coat  was  torn. 

"  There  is  a  brook  back  of  the  smithy,"  I  said  to  him; 
"  come  and  wash  your  face,  and  I  will  help  you  straighten 
out  your  clothing."  I  felt  a  little  ashamed,  for,  perhaps, 
I  had  been  partly  the  cause  of  the  misadventure. 

"  What  well-bred  gentlemen  your  countrymen  are! " 
he  said  with  bitter  irony. 

I  protested  that  he  had  merely  reaped  some  of  the 
seed  which  his  Government  had  sown,  and  that  chance 
and  chance  only  had  made  him  a  victim. 

"Perhaps  you  are  right/'  he  said,  and  assumed  his 
wonted  air  of  indifference,  though  I  was  sure  it  was  only 
assumption. 

He  walked  to  the  little  brook,  and  taking  up  the 
water  in  his  hands  cleansed  his  face  and  smoothed  his 
hair  and  mustache  with  his  fingers.  Then  he  adjusted 
his  disarranged  clothing  carefully,  and  while  he  was  oc- 
cupied so  I  strolled  back  to  the  smithy,  and  found  that 
the  driver  was  ready  to  resume  the  journey.  I  told 
him  and  Luttrell  and  one  or  two  others  that  Major 
Northcote  was  an  official  of  the  British  Government,  and 
any  further  violence  toward  him  might  cause  us  all  a  lot 
of  trouble.  They  promised  to  molest  him  no  more,  and 
I  had  full  confidence  in  their  promise,  as  their  wrath  was 
exhausted,  and,  moreover,  they  had  handled  him  pretty 
roughly  as  it  was. 

We  climbed  into  our  seats,  and  the  driver  called  out, 


A  JOURNEY  IN  THE  WORLD.  89 

"  All  ready! "  The  major  walked  up  slowly  from  the 
brook.  His  personal  appearance  was  restored,  and  his 
bearing  was  easy.  He  resumed  his  place  in  silence. 

About  sunset  of  the  second  day  from  Baltimore  we 
reached  Philadelphia,  and  my  anticipations  were  high 
as  we  approached  that  famous  town.  Just  about  that 
year,  or  perhaps  a  year  or  two  earlier,  New  York  began 
to  pass  Philadelphia  and  take  first  place  among  the  cities 
of  our  country;  but  Philadelphia  was  still  the  finer  and 
the  more  interesting,  the  historic  town,  the  town  in  which 
the  great  Declaration  had  been  made,  the  ancient  capital, 
the  town  which  had  been  the  chief  scene  of  action  for 
so  many  great  and  famous  men,  some  yet  living,  some 
gone.  I  had  fixed  already  in  my  mind  the  points  of  in- 
terest which  I  wished  first  to  see,  and  it  is  almost  needless 
to  say  that  they  were  Independence  and  Carpenters' 
Halls.  Our  driver  had  recommended  me  to  a  good  tav- 
ern, and  when  I  parted  with  my  company  of  the  journey, 
some  of  whom  had  come  all  the  way  with  me  from  Balti- 
more, I  felt  as  if  they  had  become  old  acquaintances, 
just  as  one  learns  to  look  upon  his  comrades  in  a  long 
sea  voyage.  Major  Northcote  also  was  preparing  to  go 
to  his  tavern,  or  to  whatever  place  at  which  he  intended 
to  pass  the  night,  and  bade  me  adieu,  trusting  that  I 
would  continue  to  enjoy  my  journey.  Then  he  went  his 
way,  which  was  not  mine,  and  I  hoped  that  I  would  not 
meet  him  again. 


CHAPTEE  IX. 

ON  A   FBENCH   DECK. 

THOUGH  I  had  letters  to  people  of  station  and  con- 
sequence in  Philadelphia,  I  did  not  intend  to  use  more 
than  one  or  two  of  them  during  my  stop  there  on  my 
brief  northward  journey,  saving  the  majority  for  the  re- 
turn trip.  The  two  or  three  days  now  awaiting  me  I 
wished  to  spend  among  the  people  on  the  streets,  in  the 
taverns,  the  markets,  and  the  drinking  shops,  discover- 
ing their  state  of  mind  with  regard  to  war  or  peace  by  ob- 
servation and  by  actual  talk  with  them.  I  found  Phila- 
delphia to  be  a  much  larger  and  finer  city  than  Baltimore, 
exceeding  anything  that  I  had  expected,  and  I  visited  all 
the  famous  places.  I  went  to  Independence  Hall,  where 
the  immortal  Declaration  was  made,  Carpenters'  Hall, 
where  the  first  Continental  Congress  met;  visited  the  old 
Swede  Church  and  the  other  famous  churches,  and 
then  strolled  down  the  banks  of  the  Schuylkill  and  Dela- 
ware, among  the  sailors.  These  sailors  seemed  to  be 
mostly  a  turbulent  and  not  much  of  a  God-fearing  set, 
addicted  to  strong  oaths  and  stronger  liquors.  As  at 
Baltimore,  there  were  low  groggeries,  in  which  they 
loved  to  congregate  and  spend  the  money  they  had 
earned. 

As  I  went  farther  down  the  river  I  beheld  a  sloop  of 
war.  I  could  see  no  flag  upon  her,  but  two  or  three 
sailors  at  work  upon  her  deck  had  the  look  of  French- 
men. It  seemed  strange  to  me  that  a  French  war  ship 
90 


ON  A  FRENCH  DECK.  91 

should  be  anchored  at  Philadelphia,  a  river  port,  with 
British  squadrons  all  along  our  coast,  but  walking  far- 
ther down  I  read  the  name  upon  her — La  Rochelle 
— and  beyond  a  doubt  that  was  certainly  French, 
though  she  might  prove  to  be  a  prize  which  the  English 
had  adapted  to  their  own  service  without  changing  her 
name. 

But  she  was  still  under  the  French  flag.  I  found  a 
sailor  at  last  who  could  tell  me  her  tale. 

"  That's  La  Rochelle,  a  twenty-two-gun  sloop,  one  of 
Bonaparte's  ships,"  he  said.  "  She  was  cruising  off  the 
Capes  in  search  of  prizes  among  the  British  merchant 
vessels  when  she  was  sighted  by  two  British  frigates,  which 
gave  chase.  Her  path  out  to  sea  was  blocked,  but  she 
escaped  up  the  Delaware,  and  here  she  is  at  Philadelphia 
blockaded.  She'll  go  down  the  river  the  first  dark  night, 
and  try  to  slip  out  again." 

My  sympathies  were  with  the  Frenchman.  I  had 
seen  enough  of  the  French  at  Washington  to  know  that 
they  cared  as  little  as  the  English  about  the  right,  but  I 
could  not  forget  that  they  had  given  us  great  help  in  the 
Revolution. 

The  dusk  was  coming  on,  and  behind  me  the  lights  in 
the  city  began  to  twinkle.  One  of  the  French  sailors 
sat  on  the  rail  of  the  ship,  and  let  his  feet  dangle  over. 
Though  the  twilight  was  deepening,  I  could  see  his  face, 
and  perhaps  it  was  the  soft  gray  of  the  dusk,  and  again 
perhaps  it  was  my  own  imagination,  but  it  was  the  face 
of  a  young  man  who  mused  or  dreamed  of  some  one  left 
behind  him.  I  thought  I  could  see  the  smile  or  tender 
light  in  his  eyes  as  he  looked,  without  seeing,  at  the 
blue  and  white  points  of  light  in  the  city,  or  the  blue 
and  gray  and  rippling  surface  of  the  river.  The  flowing 
water,  the  tide,  or  the  current  murmured  softly  around 
the  side  of  the  ship,  and  the  young  sailor  began  to 
sing  a  ballad  in  the  mellow  tongue  of  the  south  of 
France: 


92  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

*  Quand  le  marin  revient  de  guerre, 

Tout  doux, 
Quand  le  marin  revient  de  guerre, 

Tout  doux, 

Tout  mal  chausse,  tout  mal  vetu, 
Pauvre  marin  d'ou  reviens  tu? 

Tout  doux. 

The  words  were  strange  to  me  then,  but  the  tone  told 
of  care  and  pathos.  It  made  me  think  of  the  land  from 
which  it  came,  that  fair  land  of  France,  with  its  sunny 
wheat  fields  and  its  vineyards  black  with  the  heavy  clus- 
ters of  grapes. 

He  began  a  second  verse  of  the  song,  slow,  soft,  and 
wailing.  There  was  a  strange  silence  on  the  river,  mere- 
ly the  distant  dip  of  an  oar  now  and  then  in  the  water, 
and  some  one  far  away  calling.  The  hum  in  the  city  was 
dying,  the  darkness  was  coming  down  over  both  town  and 
river,  and  the  water  shone  through  it  with  a  faint  and 
silvery  gleam. 

There  is  nothing  like  a  good  song,  well  sung,  to  draw 
one's  sympathy,  and  my  feelings  were  with  that  ship,  as 
if  she  were  my  own.  I  took  the  deepest  personal  interest 
in  her,  and  hoped  with  a  great  hope  that  the  night  would 
be  dark  and  that  she  would  slip  down  the  river,  and  after- 
ward between  the  Capes  and  past  the  British  fleet  into 
safety. 

The  night  grew  darker,  and  gathering  clouds  showed 
that  it  would  be  all  that  I  wished.  The  singer  ceased, 
and  his  figure  vanished  from  the  deck,  but  the  charm  of 
his  singing  remained.  The  outlines  of  La  Eochelle  be- 
came indistinct  and  shadowy,  the  silver  gleam  of  the 
river  faded  into  a  misty  gray.  Where  I  stood,  no  light 
was  visible  on  the  ship. 

Accustoming  my  ^yes  to  the  dark,  I  saw  that  some 
one  else  was  watching  the  French  ship.  He  was  of  or- 

*  An  old  French  song  of  longing. 


ON  A  FRENCH  DECK.  93 

dinary  figure  and  appearance,  but  he  seemed  to  be  more 
deeply  interested  even  than  I.  He  shifted  about,  as  if 
he  would  secure  new  points  of  observation,  and  never 
took  his  eyes  from  the  sloop.  This  absorption  enabled 
me  to  observe  him  without  being  noticed  in  return.  I 
saw  that  his  face  was  decidedly  English,  fat,  and  ruddy, 
with  reddish  side  whiskers,  and  his  walk,  his  entire  man- 
ner, was  that  of  an  Englishman. 

I  guessed  the  man  at  once.  He  was  an  English  spy 
come  there  to  note  the  sailing  of  the  French  sloop,  and  to 
tell  the  ships  of  his  own  nation  to  meet  and  take  her. 
I  knew  not  what  system  of  communication,  what  mes- 
sengers or  signals  he  might  have,  or  whether  they  would 
prove  effective,  but  I  resolved  at  once  to  set  my  own 
efforts  against  his.  If  La  Eochelle  were  about  to  sail,  he 
should  not  send  the  warning  of  it  to  any  one. 

I  stepped  farther  back  from  the  waterside,  so  that 
he  might  not  observe  me,  and  I  followed  him,  though 
at  a  distance,  in  all  his  twists  and  turns,  as  he  tried  to  see 
whatsoever  might  pass  on  board  the  French  ship.  A 
light  suddenly  blazed  up  there,  and  some  sailors  appeared 
on  her  deck.  From  the  way  they  set  to  work,  I  judged 
that  La  Eochelle  was  preparing  for  her  dangerous  return. 
I  intended  to  warn  the  Frenchmen  of  the  strict  watch 
kept  upon  them,  and  it  was  now  time  for  me  to  set 
about  it. 

I  slipped  back  in  the  darkness,  and  travelling  a  paral- 
lel course  went  down  the  stream  until  I  thought  I  had 
gone  far  enough  to  escape  the  observation  of  the  English 
spy.  Then  I  returned  to  the  banks  of  the  river,  and 
there  found  a  waterman  who  was  willing,  for  good  hire, 
to  row  me  to  the  French  sloop. 

"  Do  you  know  the  captain's  name  ?  "  I  asked  as  he 
pulled  us  along. 

"  Dubosc,"  he  replied;  "  a  good  man  to  handle  his 
ship." 

We  were  already  halfway  to  La  Rochelle.     Follow- 


94:  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

ing  my  instructions,  the  boatman  had  rowed  first  to  the 
far  side  of  the  river,  and  we  were  now  approaching  from 
such  a  course  that  the  ship  was  between  us  and  the  spy, 
thus  hiding  us  from  him.  In  addition,  we  had  the  dark- 
ness, which  was  now  very  heavy  on  land  and  river,  to  help 
us.  Behind  our  boat  the  water,  as  it  closed  back  after 
our  passage,  made  but  a  dim  gray  wake.  The  farther 
shore  was  lost  in  the  obscurity,  and  due  ahead  of  us  the 
bulk  of  La  Eochelle  showed,  dim  and  misshapen.  But 
there  came  from  her  a  creaking  noise — the  shuffle  and  the 
rasping  slide  of  sail  against  sail. 

"  She's  going  down  the  river,  and  mighty  soon,  too; 
there's  no  doubt  of  it,"  said  the  boatman. 

A  minute  later  and  we  were  at  the  side  of  La  Eo- 
chelle. My  boatman  hailed,  and  a  head — black  crinkly 
hair  surmounting  a  thin  dark  face — was  thrust  over  the 
rail. 

"Who's  there?"  called  the  man  in  good  English, 
though  with  a  decided  French  accent. 

"  Is  that  you,  Captain  Dubosc  ?  "  I  replied,  as  if  I  had 
known  him  for  years. 

"  Yes,  I  am  Captain  Dubosc;  who  are  you,  and  what 
do  you  want?  " 

"  I  am  a  friend,"  I  said;  "  I  will  tell  you  more  when 
you  take  me  on  board;  but  my  message  is  of  the  utmost 
importance  to  you  and  to  France." 

I  could  see  his  keen  black  eyes  shining  like  a  cat's 
through  the  darkness,  and  he  gave  the  word  that  I  be 
taken  on  board.  I  paid  my  waterman,  and  dismissed 
him,  trusting  to  the  Frenchmen  to  put  me  ashore  when 
I  had  done  them  my  service.  I  saw  him  rowing  away 
until  he  and  his  little  boat  were  enveloped  by  the  shadows, 
while  I  stood  on  the  deck  with  the  Frenchmen. 

A  ship's  lantern  threw  a  sombre,  distorting  light  over 
our  group.  Captain  Dubosc  was  a  black  fellow — that  is, 
extremely  dark — as  if  from  the  sunburnt  shore  of  the 
Mediterranean;  not  very  tall,  but  enormously  broad  in 


ON  A  FRENCH  DECK.  95 

the  shoulders,  his  face  thin  and  keen.  His  officers,  like 
their  captain,  seemed  to  be  mostly  from  the  south  of 
France. 

"  What  is  it?     Who  are  you?  "  he  asked  shortly. 

"  My  name  does  not  matter  just  now,"  I  said,  "  but  I 
want  to  tell  you,  Captain  Dubosc,  that  your  ship  is 
watched  at  this  very  moment  by  an  English  spy.  No 
movement  that  you  can  make  will  escape  him,  and  he 
will  send  information  that  will  lead  to  your  capture. 
Come  to  the  other  side  of  the  ship,  and  you  can  see  the 
spy  for  yourself." 

All  the  officers  started  forward  eagerly  to  take  a  look, 
but  Dubosc  motioned  them  back. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  not  too  many;  he  would  see  us 
watching  and  take  alarm." 

He  and  I  only  slipped  to  the  side  nearest  the  shore, 
and  crouching  behind  a  gun  sought  the  spy  with  our 
eyes.  He  was  easily  found,  for  the  ship  was  not  far 
from  the  wharf.  There  he  was,  walking  back  and  forth, 
examining  the  ship,  her  yards,  her  masts,  her  sails,  and 
then  bending  forward  and  turning  his  ear  toward  us  in 
the  attitude  of  one  who  would  listen  intently.  It  was 
evident  that  here  was  a  man  who  did  not  intend  to  neg- 
lect the  business  upon  which  he  had  been  sent.  Even 
in  that  obscuring  dusk  his  English  traits  showed.  The 
little  whiskers  stood  out  like  red  fins  from  each  side  of 
his  face,  his  nose  was  thrust  well  forward,  and  his  whole 
attitude  was  aggressive. 

"How  will  you  get  rid  of  him?  How  will  you  keep 
him  from  telling  his  knowledge?  "  I  asked  of  Dubosc. 

"  Come  with  me  and  you  shall  see,"  he  said.  "  We 
owe  you  thanks  anyway,  and  now,  having  been  warned, 
I  trust  that  we  French  are  not  deficient  in  resources  for 
our  own  protection." 

He  spoke  with  calm  dignity,  and  seemed  to  be  grate- 
ful, as  he  said  he  was,  for  my  friendly  word  in  time.  I 
accepted  his  offer  in  like  spirit.  He  ordered  a  boat  to 


96  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

be  launched  on  the  other  side  of  the  ship,  and  he,  an- 
other officer,  four  men,  and  myself  made  up  its  crew. 
We  pulled  in  the  darkness  toward  the  farther  shore,  and 
then,  dropping  down  the  river  a  little,  returned  and 
landed,  leaving  only  one  sailor  to  mind  the  hoat.  On 
the  way  I  told  him  who  I  was. 

Dubosc  led  the  way,  and  having  curved  in  toward  the 
city  we  approached  from  the  rear  the  spot  where  the  spy 
most  likely  would  be.  Presently  we  saw  his  back.  He 
was  standing  quite  still,  attentively  regarding  the  ship, 
and  evidently  not  suspecting  our  movements.  Dubosc 
and  two  of  his  men  slipped  upon  him,  and  at  the  same 
instant  all  three  seized  him  and  threw  him  down. 

The  Englishman  uttered  one  brief  cry,  which  was 
smothered  in  the  beginning,  and  threw  up  his  hands  in 
a  convulsive  struggle,  but  all  the  French  were  upon  him 
then,  and  in  an  incredibly  brief  space  he  was  bound  hand 
and  foot  and  a  handkerchief  was  stuffed  so  tightly  into 
his  mouth  that  he  could  make  only  a  noise  that  sounded 
like  a  low  moaning. 

They  turned  him  over  on  his  face,  and  the  man 
looked  up  at  us  with  startled  eyes.  But  in  a  moment  or 
two  this  expression  passed  away  and  his  face  settled  into 
a  stolid  calm  which  expressed  nothing. 

"  Take  him  to  the  ship!  "  said  Dubosc. 

The  sailors  lifted  him  up,  Dubosc  whistled  to  his 
boatman,  and  in  a  minute  the  boat  was  brought  to  the 
bank  nearest  us.  Nothing  seemed  to  be  stirring  in  the 
city  behind  us.  The  lights  twinkled  in  white  and  blue 
points,  and  the  river,  with  the  shapeless  ships  upon  it, 
was  dark  and  silent,  save  for  its  soft  murmur. 

The  sailors  put  the  bound  and  gagged  spy  in  the 
boat,  and  I,  ignoring  in  my  deep  interest  that  my  part 
of  the  affair  was  over,  stepped  in  with  them.  Dubosc 
must  have  forgotten,  too,  for  he  said  nothing,  and  all  of 
us  went  on  board  La  Rochelle  together,  first  heaving  the 
spy  up  to  those  waiting  on  the  deck,  as  if  he  had  been  a 


ON  A  FRENCH  DECK.  97 

bundle  of  goods.  They  dropped  him  heavily  upon  the 
hard  wood,  and  he  lay  there  staring  up  with  wide  open 
eyes.  Until  then  I  had  thought  little  of  him  as  a  man, 
looking  at  him  merely  as  the  agent  of  the  British  Gov- 
ernment, but  now  that  he  was  defeated  I  felt  a  sud- 
den pity  for  him.  Before  he  had  seemed  altogether 
commonplace,  but  now,  in  the  light  of  the  ship's  lantern, 
his  face  looked  clear  cut  and  strong. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  him  ?  "  I  asked  of 
Captain  Dubosc.  "  I  suppose  you  can't  let  him  go  to- 
night, can  you?" 

"  No,"  he  replied. 

"  That's  true,"  I  said;  "  he  might  give  the  warning. 
Suppose  you  take  him  down  the  river  and  turn  him  loose 
at  the  last  land." 

"  No/'  he  said  again. 

"  What! "  I  exclaimed,  "  you  don't  mean  to  keep  him 
a  prisoner  on  your  whole  cruise,  or  carry  him  as  such  to 
France?  Kemember  that  you  have  taken  him  in  an 
American  port — a  neutral  port." 

"  No,"  he  said  a  third  time. 

I  looked  at  him  more  attentively.  His  lips  parted  in 
a  slight  smile.  Slight  as  it  was,  it  was  enough  to  reveal 
the  soulless  character  of  the  man. 

"You  don't  mean  that?"  I  cried. 

"  The  far  side  of  my  ship  is  in  complete  darkness," 
he  said  quite  coolly.  "  No  one  save  ourselves  can  see 
what  is  passing  there.  This  spy  is  bound  hand  and  foot 
and  gagged,  we  quietly  drop  him  overboard,  a  plunk,  and 
he  is  gone;  there  is  no  warning  to  the  British  fleet;  there 
is  no  complication  with  the  American  Government  or  with 
anybody;  La  Rochelle  passes  out  to  sea  and  the  whole 
affair  is  despatched  neatly  and  cleanly,  without  fuss  and 
without  trouble;  our  great  emperor  himself  would  ap- 
prove." 

Horror  seized  me.  It  was  true  that  the  English  and 
French  were  at  war,  but  Philadelphia  was  a  neutral  port; 


98  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

this  would  be  an  atrocious  murder,  and  I,  however  good 
my  intent,  would  be  the  chief  cause  of  it. 

One  of  the  sailors  had  dragged  the  spy  up  into  a 
sitting  position  with  his  back  against  a  gun  carriage,  and 
there  he  sat  doubled  up  with  his  eyes  upon  us.  He  could 
not  fail  to  hear  every  word  that  was  said,  and  I  glanced 
at  him.  A  little  of  the  natural  red  was  gone  from  his 
face,  but  otherwise  his  expression  was  unchanged,  though 
he  gazed  at  Dubosc  and  then  at  me,  and  then  back  at 
Dubosc  with  the  most  penetrating  eyes  that  I  ever  saw 
in  a  man's  head. 

"  You  shall  not  commit  such  a  murder,  Captain  Du- 
bosc! "  I  exclaimed.  "  I  am  going  ashore  and  this  man 
is  going  with  me.  He  shall  be  my  prisoner  to-night, 
and  I  will  see  that  he  says  nothing  about  La  Kochelle." 

He  shook  his  head.  The  spy's  eyes  were  turned 
upon  me  now;  they  seemed  to  gleam  through  the  dark- 
ness. 

"Your  suggestion  is  quite  out  of  the  question,  Mr. 
Ten  Broeck,"  said  Captain  Dubosc.  "  The  man  is  ours 
to  do  with  as  we  please.  You  can  have  him  to-morrow, 
if  you  care  to  drag  the  river  and  find  him.  But  we  shall 
be  far  out  at  sea,  and  the  American  Government  has  far 
too  much  on  hand  to  bother  about  so  trifling  a  thing  as 
the  disappearance  of  an  English  spy." 

This  man  was  fit  to  be  a  buccaneer,  not  the  captain 
of  a  great  nation's  war  ship. 

"  I  will  not  go  ashore  without  him,"  I  said. 

"  Then  I  fear  you  will  not  go  at  all,"  he  replied.  "  It 
is  a  little  late  even  now  to  leave  us.  Look! " 

He  pointed  toward  the  shore.  It  was  receding;  the 
white  and  blue  points  of  li^ht  twinkling  in  the  city 
twinkled  more  dimly;  I  could  hear  more  distinctly  the 
swash  of  water  along  the  sides  of  the  ship,  and  above 
me  the  sails  creaked.  La  Kochelle  had  started  on  her 
adventurous  journey. 

My  body  turned  cold  to  the  backbone  for  a  moment, 


ON  A  FRENCH  DECK.  99 

and  then  I  recovered  myself.  I  saw  that  it  was  no  time 
to  become  confused  or  excited. 

"  You  dare  not  kidnap  me,  Captain  Dubosc! "  I  said. 

"  Oh,  no,  we  will  not  kidnap  you,"  he  said;  "  we  do 
not  impress  you  Americans  as  your  friends  the  English 
do,  but  we  will  give  you  a  pleasant  voyage  to  France." 

One  of  the  officers,  a  young  man  of  about  my  own 
age,  grinned  as  if  he  thought  it  a  good  joke.  I  could 
have  struck  him  in  the  face  with  pleasure,  but  I  re- 
strained myself.  I  appreciated  my  situation  fully.  I 
knew  that  they  could  carry  me  off  to  France,  unless  I 
was  taken  on  the  way  by  the  English,  which  would  be  no 
improvement,  and  with  nearly  the  whole  world  at  war, 
my  fate  would  be  a  small  matter  to  distressed  nations. 
I  could  rely  only  upon  my  own  courage  and  dexterity. 

"  One  must  accept  the  decrees  of  fate  like  a  philoso- 
pher," I  said  in  a  resigned  tone,  "  and  perhaps  I  shall 
enjoy  a  free  trip  to  France.  But  let  me  take  the  gag 
out  of  that  man's  mouth,  and  ask  him  a  question  or  two; 
it  can't  possibly  do  any  harm." 

Captain  Dubosc  assented  more  readily  than  I  had  ex- 
pected. 

"  Remove  the  gag  and  ask  him  what  you  wish,"  he 
said. 

I  stooped  over  the  spy.  His  eyes  were  upon  me  as 
if  he  would  look  through  my  body  into  my  soul.  His 
arms  were  tied,  not  together,  but  at  his  side  with  one 
wrapping  of  cord.  I  gave  back  his  look,  and  his  eyes, 
meeting  mine,  flashed.  Bending  lower  I  severed  the 
cord  that  confined  his  arms  with  one  sweep  of  the  knife 
that  I  had  taken  from  my  pocket. 

"  Release  yourself,"  I  said,  thrusting  the  knife  into 
his  freed  right  hand.  Then  I  sprang  upon  Captain  Du- 
bosc. 

In  times  of  violence  and  peril  it  is  a  mighty  thing 
to  have  the  strength  of  a  giant,  and  even  in  addition  to 
the  muscles  and  power  which  God  had  given  me  I  had 


100  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

the  impulse  of  great  excitement.  The  captain,  his  face 
showing  terror,  attempted  to  escape,  but  in  an  instant 
my  arms  were  around  him,  and  he  was  compressed  in  a 
hug  which  no  five-foot-six  Frenchman  could  resist.  A 
groan  came  from  him,  and  I  swung  him  under  my  left 
arm,  a  slight  bloody  froth  appearing  upon  his  lips;  then 
with  my  right  hand  I  drew  my  pistol  and  faced  the 
Frenchmen.  It  had  all  been  done  in  thirty  seconds,  and 
when  their  hands  flew  to  their  swords  the  Englishman's 
wrists  were  free  and  their  captain  swung  unconscious 
under  my  arm. 

"  I  wish  to  go  ashore,  gentlemen,"  I  said,  "  and  take 
the  English  spy  with  me;  if  one  of  you  draws  his  sword 
or  levels  his  pistol  upon  me,  I'll  blow  your  captain's 
brains  out." 

"  And  if  by  any  chance  he  should  miss,  I  will  do  it 
for  him,"  said  a  quiet  voice  at  my  shoulder. 

The  little  English  spy  stood  beside  me,  a  pistol  in 
his  right  hand  and  the  knife  with  which  I  had  freed  him 
in  his  left.  He  said  nothing  more,  but  lined  up  by  my 
side,  as  if  we  formed  a  whole  regiment  going  into  battle. 
Despite  his  cockney  face,  his  ridiculous  red  whiskers, 
and  his  insignificant  figure,  he  looked  the  true  hero.  It 
showed  in  his  clear  eyes,  his  firm  chin,  and  his  whole 
attitude. 

The  officers  looked  at  us  half  in  hesitation,  half  in 
fear.  In  the  darkness  sailors  in  the  rigging,  or  hidden 
elsewhere,  might  have  secured  shots  at  us,  but  they  had 
the  double  danger  of  the  captain's  death  to  follow,  and 
of  the  reports  being  heard  from  the  shore,  with  many 
complications  as  a  sequel.  So  they  stoo£  in  a  confused 
group,  still  looking  at  us. 

The  ship  was  drifting  slowly  with  the  current,  and 
the  shores  were  of  equal  distance  now — one  side  dark, 
and  the  points  of  light  on  the  other  growing  fewer  and 
fainter.  The  darkness  hid  the  surface  of  the  stream, 
save  in  a  narrow  circle  around  the  ship,  where  the  water 


ON  A  FRENCH  DECK.  101 

looked  gray,  almost  black,  and  as  we  stood  in  silence  on 
the  deck,  looking  at  each  other,  we  could  still  hear  its 
monotonous  wash  around  the  sides  of  La  Rochelle. 

I  felt  a  kind  of  wild  exhilaration,  a  sense  of  triumph 
over  odds  which  never  fails  to  exalt  the  spirits.  With 
their  captain  under  my  arm,  as  a  kind  of  pawn,  I  could 
defy  a  whole  ship's  crew,  a  war  ship  at  that,  a  twenty-two- 
gunner  to  boot. 

"  Well,  gentlemen/'  I  said,  "  the  boat  in  which  we 
came  is  still  trailing  by  the  ship's  side  and  waiting.  I 
wish  to  go  ashore  with  this  Englishman." 

Two  of  them  began  to  whisper  together. 

"  All  I  ask  is  personal  safety  for  both  of  us,"  I  said. 
"  The  Englishman  shall  be  my  prisoner  until  to-morrow, 
and  I  shall  see  that  he  sends  no  warning  that  can  inter- 
fere with  the  escape  of  La  Rochelle." 

A  lieutenant  at  last  gave  the  word.  A  half  dozen 
sailors  had  gathered  and  were  looking  at  us.  One  of 
them  lay  hold  of  the  rope  and  pulled  the  boat  almost  to 
the  ship's  side. 

"  Into  her! "  I  said  to  the  Englishman. 

He  dropped  lightly  into  the  centre  of  the  boat.  He 
could  have  cut  the  rope  and  rowed  away  with  the  oars 
that  lay  ready  for  his  hand,  but  he  did  nothing  of  the 
kind.  He  held  his  pistol  levelled  ready  for  a  shot,  if  it 
were  needed,  and  with  the  other  hand  steadied  the 
boat.  Still  holding  Captain  Dubosc  under  my  arm,  I 
dropped  over  the  side  and  landed  in  the  boat  beside 
the  spy. 

"  Hold,  this  is  a  breach  of  faith! "  cried  the  lieuten- 
ant, rushing  forward.  "  We  have  not  tried  to  hurt  you, 
and  you  are  taking  our  captain  with  you." 

"  It  is  no  breach  of  faith,"  I  said;  "  we  are  not  yet 
on  shore,  and  you  might  even  send  a  cannon  ball  after  us 
in  this  boat.  We  merely  carry  our  hostage  as  far  as  the 
land.  Send  a  sailor  with  us  to  bring  him  and  the  boat 
back,  or  come  yourself." 


102  "  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

He  signed  to  a  sailor,  who  leaped  into  the  boat  with 
us.  The  Englishman  cut  the  rope,  and  then  he  and  the 
Frenchman  took  up  the  oars  and  pulled  for  the  shore. 
I  took  Captain  Duhosc  from  under  my  arm  and  held  him 
in  such  a  position  that  his  body  would  protect  the  spy 
and  me  from  any  but  the  most  skilful  shot  from  the 
ship.  He  was  beginning  to  recover  from  the  affection- 
ate hug  which  I  had  given  him.  His  eyes  opened  lan- 
guidly and  he  struggled  a  little,  but  I  held  him  firm. 

La  Eochelle  was  almost  stationary,  merely  drifting  a 
little,  and  twenty  or  thirty  men,  officers  and  sailors,  were 
clustered  at  her  rail  looking  at  us  as  we  swiftly  ap- 
proached the  shore.  We  had  passed  the  city,  and  there 
were  no  lights  in  the  darkness,  save  the  few  aboard  the 
ship.  The  boat  bumped  suddenly  against  the  bank.  I 
released  Captain  Dubosc,  and  the  English  spy  and  I 
stepped  out  of  the  boat  and  upon  the  dry  and  solid 
earth,  which  felt  very  reliable  and  welcome  beneath  my 
feet  after  my  experience  with  the  treachery  of  ships  and 
water. 

"  Good  night,  Captain  Dubosc,"  I  said;  "  and  please 
remember,  until  you  are  out  of  it,  that  this  is  a  neutral 
country,  and  we  do  not  approve  of  murder  here." 

He  was  sitting  upon  one  of  the  slides,  all  his  strength 
returned,  but  he  did  not  reply. 

The  spy  and  I  stood  side  by  side  on  the  bank,  watch- 
ing the  departing  boat.  The  sailor  was  doing  all  the 
rowing,  and  the  captain  was  sitting  on  a  slide  with  his 
face  toward  us.  The  ship  had  swung  toward  the  shore  to 
meet  him.  I  saw  Dubosc  say  something  to  the  sailor, 
and  the  boat  began  to  curve  around  the  ship,  as  if  he 
would  board  her  on  the  far  side. 

The  little  spy  suddenly  threw  himself  upon  me  with 
all  his  weight,  seizing  me  by  the  shoulders  and  dragging 
me  down.  His  action  was  so  quick  that  I  had  no  time 
to  resist,  and  we  fell  in  a  heap.  I  heard  the  report  of  a 
pistol,  and  a  bullet  whistled  through  the  air  where  my 


ON  A  FRENCH  DECK.  103 

head  had  been  five  seconds  before.  Dubosc  was  standing 
up  in  the  boat,  his  empty  pistol,  still  smoking  at  the 
muzzle,  in  his  hand. 

I  sprang  to  my  feet  and  snatched  out  my  own  pistol, 
but  the  boat  had  passed  around  the  curve  of  La  Rochelle's 
prow  and  Dubosc  was  hidden  from  me. 

"  I  think  we'd  better  step  back  a  little,"  said  the  spy; 
"  a  treacherous  shot  from  the  ship  would  reach  us/' 

We  walked  farther  away,  but  La  Rochelle  changed 
her  course  again,  and  bore  out  toward  the  middle  of  the 
stream.  I  saw  a  short  thick  figure  appear  upon  her  deck, 
and  I  knew  it  was  that  of  Captain  Dubosc. 

The  spy  and  I  stood  where  we  were  and  watched  La 
Rochelle  fade  away  into  the  darkness,  until  only  the 
gray  river  and  the  dim  shores  were  left. 

We  stood  there  at  least  a  minute  staring  at  the  bank 
of  darkness  into  which  the  French  sloop  had  disappeared. 
Then  I  turned  to  the  spy. 

"  What  is  your  name?  "  I  asked. 

"  Henry  Ketcham." 

"  Then  I  want  to  say,  Mr.  Henry  Ketcham,  that  you 
pulled  me  down  just  in  time." 

"  And  I  want  to  say,  Mr.  What's-your-name,  that  you 
cut  the  rope  that  tied  my  arms  just  in  time." 

"  Which  makes  us  even." 

"  Which  makes  us  even." 

I  looked  at  him.  His  red  whiskers,  notched  at  the 
edge  like  a  saw,  stood  out  defiantly,  but  I  liked  the  little 
scamp. 

"  What  were  you  doing  prowling  around  there  watch- 
ing that  boat  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Saving  my  country.  What  were  you  doing  prowl- 
ing around  there  watching  me?  " 

"  Saving  my  country." 

"  Again  we  are  even." 

"  Again  we  are  even." 

I  liked  him  more  and  more. 


104:  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

"Remember,  Mr.  Henry  Ketcham,  of  England,"  I 
said,  "  that  you  are  my  prisoner." 

"  All  right,  Mr.  WhatVyour-name,  I  don't  forget." 

"  Then  pass  me  that  pistol  of  yours." 

He  handed  it  to  me. 

"  Any  other  weapon  about  you?  "  I  asked. 

"  None." 

"  On  your  honour?  " 

"  On  my  honour." 

I  thrust  his  pistol  in  my  pocket  to  keep  company  with 
my  own. 

"  I  am  responsible  for  your  safety  until  about  noon 
to-morrow,"  I  said;  "  come." 

He  tramped  along  obediently  by  my  side.  Far  away 
I  saw  a  single  dim  ray,  and  I  knew  that  it  was  one  of 
the  many  lights  of  Philadelphia.  Toward  that  light  we 
trudged  industriously. 

I  was  in  fine  spirits. 

We  passed  two  or  three  watchmen,  who  looked  in- 
quiringly at  the  big  man  and  the  little  man  stalking 
solemnly  side  by  side,  Ketcham  almost  hid  in  my  shadow, 
but  they  said  nothing.  At  last  we  reached  the  tavern, 
and  I  notified  the  landlord  that  my  friend,  Mr.  Ketcham, 
was  to  sleep  in  one  of  the  beds  in  my  room  that  night, 
and  he  said  all  right.  The  rooms  in  our  American  taverns 
often  contain  as  many  as  four,  five,  or  six  beds,  and  the 
more  tenants  a  landlord  can  find  for  them,  the  better 
for  him. 

We  went  up  to  my  room  and  I  lighted  a  candle. 

"  See  that  bed,"  I  said  to  Ketcham,  pointing  to 
one  in  the  corner.  "You  sleep  there,  and  don't  for- 
get that  you  are  my  prisoner;  don't  go  away  in  the 
night." 

Then  I  tumbled  into  my  own  bed  and  slept  well, 
being  aided  therein  by  a  sound  conscience  and  a  satis- 
fied mind. 

I  awoke  late,  and  found  that  Ketcham  was  dressing. 


ON  A  FRENCH  DECK.  105 

"I  was  just  going  to  waken  you,"  he  said;  "I  was 
afraid  you'd  sleep  all  day." 

I  thanked  him  and  took  him  to  breakfast.  There  I 
inquired  about  the  French  sloop  of  war  La  Eochelle. 
The  night  had  been  dark,  had  she  taken  advantage  of 
it  and  slipped  down  the  river?  Yes,  she  had,  and  it  was 
said  that  the  English  consul  was  in  a  great  flurry  about 
it,  as  he  knew  nothing  of  her  departure  until  this  morn- 
ing, and  he  was  afraid  she  would  escape  the  English 
fleets  on  the  coast.  These  were  inquiries  that  I  could 
make  without  arousing  suspicion  of  anything  more  than 
a  mere  general  interest,  for  naturally  everybody  was 
curious  about  the  French  sloop  and  her  chances  of  es- 
cape. 

Ketcham  ate  a  very  hearty  breakfast.  It  is  strange 
what  a  prodigious  appetite  little  men  often  have. 

As  the  English  consul  now  knew  of  La  Rochelle's  de- 
parture it  might  seem  that  I  had  no  further  use  for 
Ketcham;  but  not  so.  He  might  have  some  system  of 
communication  far  surpassing  that  of  the  consul's,  and 
I  was  bound  to  give  La  Rochelle  a  good  start,  Cap- 
tain Dubosc  or  no  Captain  Dubosc.  No;  I  would  hold 
Ketcham  for  most  of  the  day,  thus  making  sure  of 
him,  and  I  determined,  while  I  was  about  it,  to  enlight- 
en him  also,  in  order  that  there  might  be  no  waste  of 
time. 

"  Are  you  through,  Ketcham?  "  I  asked,  when  I  saw 
him  wiping  his  lips  with  his  handkerchief. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  giving  one  longing  look  at  the  table, 
upon  which  nothing  was  left  save  the  dishes. 

"  Then  come  with  me." 

We  took  our  hats  and  walked  out  into  the  street. 
After  a  night  of  trouble  or  peril,  the  daylight  is  glorious, 
whether  it  comes  with  sunshine,  or  rain,  or  snow.  This 
morning  it  came  with  sunshine,  bright,  shimmering,  and 
pervading.  It  gilded  the  red  bricks  of  Philadelphia,  and 
crept  into  the  darkest  corners,  covering  dirt  and  soot 
8 


106  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

with  leaf  gold  thinner,  finer,  and  more  lustrous  than  ever 
goldbeater  beat. 

I  looked  up  at  the  sparkling  heavens,  and  down  at 
the  gleaming  city. 

"Ketcham,"  I  said,  "it  is  better  to  be  here  than 
down  yonder  at  the  bottom  of  the  river,  tied  hand  and 
foot/' 

"Better,  far  better,"  he  said  in  tones  of  deep  con- 
viction. 

"  Ketcham,"  I  continued,  "  I  am  now  going  to  take 
you  on  a  little  tour  of  the  city  for  your  own  benefit." 

"  I  shall  be  pleased  to  go  with  you,"  he  replied. 

I  led  him  through  the  busy  streets  to  Carpenters' 
Hall. 

"Come  in,  Ketcham,"  I  said.  "There  are  some 
things  in  here  that  I  want  to  show  to  an  Englishman." 

He  followed  me  obediently  into  the  building.  I  took 
him  to  the  room  in  which  the  first  Continental  Congress 
had  met. 

"  Ketcham,"  I  said,  "  the  first  American  Congress 
met  here  to  devise  plans  to  protect  the  thirteen  colonies 
from  the  arrogance  and  tyranny  of  Great  Britain  and  her 
ruler,  George  the  Third.  Take  a  good  look  at  it,  impress 
it  on  your  memory." 

He  looked  all  around  the  room. 

"  You  have  seen  it?  "  I  asked. 

"I  have  seen  it." 

"  See  that  chair  over  there!  I've  no  doubt  that  John 
Adams  sat  in  it,  and  John  Adams  was  a  great  and  a 
wise  man." 

"  I  see  it." 

"And  that  other  chair  over  there,  perhaps  Patrick 
Henry  sat  in  it;  Patrick  Henry  was  a  great  and  wise 
man  too,  and  he  made  some  good  speeches  about  the  arro- 
gance and  tyranny  of  kings." 

"I  see  it." 

"  And  who  can  say  that  the  immortal  George  Wash- 


ON  A  FRENCH  DECK.  107 

ington  himself  has  not  looked  through  that  window? 
You  have  heard  of  George  Washington.  He  gave  a  great 
check  to  the  pride  of  kings." 

"I  see  the  window.     I  have  heard  of  him." 

We  walked  solemnly  out  of  Carpenters'  Hall,  and  I 
took  him  to  Independence  Hall. 

"  Be  sure  to  take  off  your  hat  when  you  enter  here, 
Mr.  Ketcham,"  I  said. 

"  My  hat  is  off,"  he  replied. 

He  was  holding  it  in  his  hand. 

I  led  him  to  the  room  in  which  the  Declaration  of 
Independence  was  written  and  signed. 

"  Do  you  see  this  room,  Mr.  Ketcham?  "  I  asked. 

"I  see  it." 

"  Then  remember  it,  for  here  was  drawn  up  an  im- 
mortal document,  called  the  American  Declaration  of  In- 
dependence, which  will  serve  as  a  warning  for  all  time 
to  all  monarchs  and  tyrants,  especially  those  of  Great 
Britain." 

"  I  will  remember  it." 

"  See  that  chair  over  there;  maybe  in  that  very  chair 
sat  the  great  and  glorious  Thomas  Jefferson,  still  living, 
thank  Heaven;  the  man  who  wrote,  '  All  men  are  born 
free  and  with  equal  rights/  " 

"  I  see  it." 

"And  over  there  in  that  chair  perhaps  sat  Benja- 
min Franklin,  who  was  most  potent  in  stirring  the  thir- 
teen colonies  to  rightful  rebellion  against  the  tyranny 
of  their  English  rulers." 

"  I  see  it." 

"  And  that  window  over  there — perhaps  the  famous 
Alexander  Hamilton  himself,  the  framer  of  our  blessed 
Constitution,  looked  through  it." 

"  I  see  it." 

Hamilton  wasn't  there,  but  I  didn't  mind  that. 

We  returned  to  the  streets,  and  on  our  way  to  the  tav- 
ern I  said  to  Ketcham: 


108  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

"See  these  streets,  Mr.  Ketcham;  perhaps  through 
this  very  street  the  discomfited  Howe  marched  when  he 
and  the  British  army  fled  forever  from  Philadelphia." 

"  I  see  them." 

We  walked  on.  I  felt  pride  and  satisfaction;  I  had 
taught  one  Englishman  a  lesson.  Little  Ketcham  trotted 
meekly  by  my  side.  Presently  he  pulled  gently  at  my 
arm,  and  I  stopped. 

He  pointed  to  a  small  building,  over  which  floated  the 
British  flag. 

"  Ah,  yes,  I  see,"  I  said;  "  it  is  the  home  of  the  Brit- 
ish consul." 

"  See  that  flag  that  the  wind  blows  out  from  the  staff 
above?"  he  said;  "it  is  the  flag  that  flew  over  the 
English  ships  in  Aboukir  Bay  when  they  destroyed  the 
great  fleet  that  had  brought  Napoleon  and  his  army  to 
Egypt." 

"  I  see  it." 

"  Stand  nearer  the  corner  here,  you  can  get  a  better 
view  of  it;  that  is  the  flag  that  streamed  in  the  wind 
over  the  immortal  Nelson  and  his  men  when  they 
crushed  the  naval  power  of  combined  France  and  Spain 
on  the  bloody  day  of  Trafalgar." 

"  I  see  it." 

"  Come  to  the  edge  of  the  sidewalk  here  and  you  can 
get  a  better  view  of  the  red  in  it;  that's  the  flag  that 
Marlborough  carried  at  Blenheim,  when  the  English  won 
against  odds  one  of  the  decisive  battles  of  the  world;  it's 
the  same  flag  that  waved  at  Eamillies  and  Malplaquet, 
and  it  waved  to  the  same  purpose." 

"  I  see  it." 

"  Look  how  the  wind  sports  around  it,  as  if  it  liked 
it;  that  is  the  flag  that  Clive  carried  at  Plassey,  when 
England  won  a  new  world  in  Asia.  Notice  the  flag  well 
and  remember  it." 

"  I  remember  it." 

"  Come  over  here  and  you  can  get  still  another  view 


ON  A  FRENCH  DECK.  1Q9 

of  it;  that's  the  flag  that  waved  over  the  fleet  of  Effing- 
ham  when  it  turned  back  the  Spanish  Armada  and  saved 
the  world  from  enslavement.  Do  you  see  it?  " 

"  I  see  it." 

We  walked  side  by  side,  but  in  silence,  to  the  tavern. 
There  I  anounced  to  him  that  his  term  of  imprisonment 
was  over  and  he  could  go. 

"But  before  you  leave,  Mr.  Ketcham,"  I  said,  "I 
want  to  tell  you  that  I  like  you." 

"  And  I  like  you,  Mr.  Ten  Broeck." 

"  Shake  hands." 

We  shook,  and  he  left. 

I  want  to  say  again  that  he  was  a  brave  man,  true 
grit,  worthy  to  be  a  Kentuckian. 


CHAPTER  X. 

ANOTHER   SIDE   OF   A   PURITAN". 

IT  was  my  intention  to  leave  the  next  morning  for 
New  York.  Philadelphia  had  its  attractions  for  me,  but 
I  had  stayed  long  enough  on  the  northward  journey,  and 
then  New  York  would  most  likely  offer  pleasures,  too, 
and  I  would  have  another  chance  at  Philadelphia  on  the 
return  trip. 

I  presented  one  of  my  letters  to  Hezekiah  Broadbent, 
a  rich  merchant  of  the  Quaker  persuasion,  by  whom  I 
was  entertained  most  hospitably,  though  he  seemed  to 
think  that  the  Western  people  were  rough  and  wanting  in 
a  due  respect  for  the  richer  and  older  East,  and  after  a 
pleasant  evening  I  strolled  back  to  the  tavern,  where  I 
found  both  Mercer  and  Courtenay  waiting  for  me,  much 
to  my  surprise  and  my  equal  pleasure.  Mercer  explained 
that  legal  business  in  Washington  being  so  dull  he  had 
decided  to  take  a  northern  journey,  and  Courtenay,  who 
was  doing  nothing,  readily  agreed  to  come  with  him. 
They  had  arrived  at  the  tavern  in  the  evening  stage- 
coach, and,  hearing  that  I  was  there  too,  concluded  to 
travel  with  me.  Of  course  I  was  glad  to  have  them, 
and  asked  them  the  news  of  Washington,  was  everybody 
well?  and  thus  asking  after  each  I  came  to  Marian  Pen- 
dleton. 

"  She  is  still  the  handsomest  woman  in  Washington," 
said  Mercer. 

"  Did  she  send  any  word  to  me?  "  I  asked. 

"  No/'  he  replied,  a  trifle  shortly. 
110 


ANOTHER  SIDE  OF  A  PUEITAN. 

I  took  no  offence,  for  a  moment's  reflection  showed 
me  that  if  she  intended  any  message  to  me  she  would  be 
likely  to  choose  some  other  messenger. 

I  was  delighted  at  the  arrival  of  Mercer  and  Courte- 
nay.  I  would  now  have  comrades  in  seeing  the  world, 
and  if  the  right  of  choice  had  been  left  to  me  I  would 
have  chosen  these  very  two.  Before  going  to  breakfast 
in  the  morning  I  made  an  announcement. 

"  Boys,"  I  said,  "  I  have  seen  enough  already  to  know 
that  the  tour  of  the  North  and  the  East  in  this  good 
year  1811  is  not  without  danger;  remember  that,  what- 
ever happens,  we  are  to  stick  by  each  other." 

"  We  three  together! "  we  said,  and,  having  pledged 
our  faith  as  comrades  in  all  sincerity,  we  took  break- 
fast. 

Major  Northcote,  who  seemed  to  have  become  my 
shadow,  or  I  his,  was  standing  beside  the  stagecoach 
when  we  arrived  there. 

"You  see  you  can  not  shake  me  off,"  he  said  jest- 
ingly. 

He  nodded  to  Mercer  and  Courtenay,  whom  he  knew, 
and  we  took  our  places,  as  the  driver  cracked  his  whip 
for  the  start. 

Now  that  we  were  on  the  high  road  between  the  lar- 
gest two  cities  of  the  country  we  noticed  that  the  travel 
was  growing  heavier,  and  we  met  people  in  their  own 
coaches  and  others  on  horseback.  Some  of  our  passen- 
gers seemed  to  be  men  of  note,  substantial  merchants 
of  New  York  and  Philadelphia  travelling  on  business, 
and  their  talk  was  all  of  the  prospective  war  and  its  effects 
upon  trade.  There  were  no  women  or  children  in  the 
coach. 

We  made  the  acquaintance  of  these  men  very  easily, 
and,  at  their  suggestion,  joined  in  the  conversation  with 
them.  In  the  West  we  seldom  looked  beyond  our  own 
continent,  and  that  had  once  been  my  own  outlook,  but  I 
soon  noticed  that  these  Eastern  merchants  took  a  wider 


112  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

view,  and  included  all  the  lands  and  seas  in  their  cal- 
culations. 

I  paid  special  attention  to  one  of  the  merchants,  a 
man  of  fifty  or  more,,  very  staid  and  sober  of  coun- 
tenance, and  clothed  in  sombre  garb,  like  a  Quaker  or 
Puritan.  He  asked  me  many  sharp  questions  about  the 
West,  and  I  noticed  that  he  used  scriptural  texts  very 
freely.  I  set  him  down  as  a  pious  man  from  Boston  or 
Salem.  He  seemed  to  be  horrified  at  the  thought  of  war. 

"  A  war  with  Great  Britain  will  be  fatal  to  our  sea- 
board towns,"  he  said. 

I  did  not  think  we  should  sacrifice  everything  for 
the  sake  of  the  seaboard  towns,  and  said  so,  but  he  was 
aghast  at  the  suggestion,  thus  giving  me  a  good  idea  of 
the  timidity  with  which  wealth  views  all  political  dis- 
turbances. 

Finding  that  we  were  from  Washington,  and  that  I 
had  been  in  the  Government  service,  they  put  us  to  as 
searching  a  cross-examination  as  a  lawyer  ever  inflicts 
upon  a  witness.  But  we  were  in  nowise  loath,  and  an- 
swered all  their  questions  about  the  disposition  of  the 
Government,  and  the  pressure  put  upon  it  by  others,  as 
directly  and  promptly  as  we  could.  The  puritanical 
looking  man  was  the  shrewdest  of  our  questioners,  and  I 
soon  discovered  that  he  was  really  a  merchant  of  Boston, 
and  that  his  name  was  Jonathan  Starbuck. 

Thus  talking,  we  became  well  acquainted  with  each 
other,  all  except  Major  Northcote,  whose  silence  the 
others  respected,  for  they  saw  at  once  that  he  was  not  an 
American,  and  we  three  did  not  even  say  that  we  knew 
him. 

I  did  not  notice  until  we  were  far  on  the  road  to  New 
York  that  the  fair  weather  with  which  we  had  started 
was  not  to  accompany  us  all  the  way.  In  fact,  the 
warmth  had  been  a  little  too  great  for  that  time  of  the 
year.  The  atmosphere  soon  became  close,  and  the  wind 
ceased.  One  breathed  then  with  difficulty,  as  if  the  heavi- 


ANOTHER  SIDE  OF  A  PURITAN.  113 

ness  of  the  air  clogged  the  lungs.  The  conversation  be- 
gan to  lag,  for  it  was  an  effort  to  talk.  In  the  southeast 
a  little  cloud  appeared,  just  peeping  over  the  rim  of  the 
earth. 

The  driver  whipped  his  horses,  and  they  broke  into 
a  trot.  As  they  were  a  fresh  relay,  and  we  had  a  good 
bit  of  road  before  us,  the  coach  spun  along  at  a  fine 
gait.  It  rattled  much,  and  hub  complained  loudly  to 
axle,  but  the  increased  speed  created  a  breeze  for  us  which 
cooled  our  faces,  and  to  some  extent  the  air  came  purer 
to  our  lungs. 

On  the  heavy  coach  swept,  and  Felix  called  my  atten- 
tion to  the  cloud  in  the  southwest.  It  was  not  now  a 
baby  cloud  hugging  the  earth,  but  in  the  vigour  of  grow- 
ing and  increasing  youth  was  creeping  up  the  circle  of 
the  southwestern  heavens,  large  enough  to  fling  a  gray 
shadow  over  that  part  of  the  earth. 

When  we  stopped  at  a  little  brook  to  water  the  horses, 
the  air  became  breathless  again.  Trees,  twigs,  blades 
of  grass  were  as  stiff  as  if  they  were  made  of  immovable 
stone.  The  heat  seemed  to  increase,  and  the  air  became 
denser  and  heavier. 

The  southwest  began  to  groan,  and  the  darkness 
spread  from  that  quarter  to  all  the  heavens.  The  air 
was  gray  and  misty.  All  of  us  were  silent,  watching  the 
storm  as  it  came.  The  western  clouds  turned  from  gray 
into  a  black,  through  which  a  dark  blue  tint  shone. 
Suddenly  they  parted,  as  if  beneath  the  stroke  of  a 
sword,  and  a  long  streak  of  fire,  extending  from  the  cen- 
tre of  the  heavens  to  the  western  earth,  cut  the  sky. 
Most  of  us  started  in  our  seats. 

The  groaning  had  swelled  into  a  loud  moaning,  and 
the  leaves  and  the  grass  began  to  flutter  as  they  felt  the 
first  breath  of  the  coming  gale.  Far  off  we  could  see  the 
rain  streaks  borne  toward  us  on  the  wind. 

We  quickly  pulled  the  leather  flaps  over  the  roof  and 
sides  of  the  coach,  but  by  the  time  we  had  finished  the 


114  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

task  the  moaning  had  risen  to  a  roar,  and  trees,  bushes, 
and  grass  were  whipped  by  the  wind. 

Between  the  edges  of  the  flaps  I  watched  the  coming 
of  the  rain,  which  moved  toward  us — a  dark  bank,  as  dis- 
tinct as  a  giant  wave.  Then,  with  a  rush  and  a  howl, 
wind  and  rain  were  upon  us.  If  their  coming  was 
like  a  great  wave,  our  coach  was  like  a  boat  struck  by  it. 
It  rocked  under  the  force  of  the  tempest,  and  for  a  mo- 
ment I  thought  we  would  go  over  on  our  side.  The 
horses,  stung  by  the  rain,  which  was  driven  against  them 
like  sleet,  reared  and  twisted  about  in  their  gear,  adding 
to  the  alarm  of  solid  and  respectable  merchants,  and  in- 
creasing the  chance  of  an  overturned  coach. 

The  driver  sprang  out  and  seized  one  of  the  horses  by 
the  head. 

"  Here,  some  of  you  help  me!  "  he  shouted. 

Courtenay,  Mercer,  and  I  were  out  of  the  coach  in 
a  moment,  making  a  man  for  each  horse.  Thus  we  held 
them  steady  while  the  storm  shrieked  over  our  heads, 
dashing  fragments  of  boughs  past  us  and  howling  through 
the  woods  like  lean  wolves  after  a  buck.  We  were  wet  to 
the  bone  in  half  a  minute,  but  we  were  the  youngest  and 
the  duty  was  ours,  and  travellers  who  would  see  the 
world  must  expect  hardships. 

"  We'll  lead  them  up  by  the  side  of  that  hill  yonder," 
said  the  driver;  "  it  will  shelter  us  partly  from  the 
storm." 

We  led  the  frightened  horses  forward.  The  water 
was  pouring  already  along  the  road,  and  the  mud  was 
deepening  under  our  feet.  It  splashed  in  lumps  into 
our  faces  under  the  tread  of  the  horses,  but  with  a  steep 
hill  on  the  western  side  of  us  we  were  protected  from 
the  full  force  of  the  storm,  and  the  horses  became 
quiet. 

Then  my  comrades  and  I  climbed  back  into  the  coach 
and  watched  the  wild  sweep  of  the  rain  over  the  lonesome 
country.  There  was  some  thunder,  distant  and  low,  and 


ANOTHER  SIDE  OF  A  PURITAN.  H5 

now  and  then  the  lightning  flickered  across  the  sky,  but 
it  was  too  early  in  the  season  for  much  thunder  and  light- 
ning, and  the  storm,  after  its  first  whoop  and  rush,  set- 
tled into  a  steady  chilling  rain,  pouring  out  of  a 
sky  of  solid  leaden  gray,  unrelieved  by  the  tiniest  wisp 
of  white.  This  discouraged  us,  for  we  saw  now  that  it 
was  not  a  storm  of  the  kind  soon  come,  soon  gone,  but 
one  that  would  follow  us  long  on  our  journey  to  New 
York. 

The  horses  shivered  in  the  chilling  pour.  The  air 
turned  much  colder,  and  Courtenay,  Mercer,  and  I,  who 
were  wet  through,  managed  to  get  a  change  of  clothing 
out  of  our  travelling  bags  and  to  transfer  ourselves  into 
the  dry  garments.  The  leather  curtains  of  the  coach  were 
drawn  as  closely  as  possible,  but  the  edge  of  the  rain, 
driven  by  the  wind  like  the  spray  of  the  ocean,  penetrated 
the  cracks  now  and  then  and  stung  our  faces. 

We  stayed  there  an  hour,  and,  the  tempest  having 
abated,  though  the  rain  still  fell,  the  driver  announced 
that  we  must  start  again. 

"  It'll  be  hard  travelling,"  he  said,  "  but  there's  no 
help  for  it." 

He  gave  the  word  to  the  horses,  they  strained  at  the 
gear,  and  the  heavy  vehicle  lumbered  slowly  through  the 
mud,  which  was  now  very  deep  in  the  road. 

"  It's  even  harder  than  I  expected,"  said  the  driver, 
"  but  I  guess  we  can  make  it  to  Trenton  to-night,  though 
we'll  be  mighty  late." 

On  we  crawled  through  the  mud.  The  horses'  feet 
sank  in  it  with  a  plunk,  and  it  flew  high  in  the  air  at 
every  step  they  took.  Large  deposits  of  New  Jersey's 
richest  soil  gathered  upon  the  horses,  the  coach,  and  even 
upon  us,  for  the  rain  had  abated  so  far  now  that  we  could 
dispense  with  the  leather  flaps. 

"We  settled  into  a  solemn  and  gloomy  silence,  for  we 
felt  that  the  elements  were  treating  us  badly,  and  we  had 
no  desire  to  be  cheerful.  Of  a  sudden  there  was  a  snap 


116  A  HERALD  OP  THE  WEST. 

like  a  pistol  shot,  and  the  front  end  of  the  coach  settled 
comfortably  down  toward  the  earth.  The  driver  swore 
rich,  profuse  oaths.  I  knew  what  was  the  matter  with- 
out the  telling  of  it.  The  front  axle  had  unkindly 
broken,  and  the  travels  of  that  coach  were  over  for  the 
present. 

We  climbed  out  and  looked  disconsolately  about  us. 
Then  the  driver  spoke  up.  "As  we  can't  get  to  Tren- 
ton," he  said,  "  we  must  pass  the  night  somewhere  else. 
Across  those  woods  yonder  there's  a  farm  house  that  I 
know.  Maybe  we  can  get  some  kind  of  food  and  shelter 
there." 

He  volunteered  to  go,  if  any  one  would  go  with  him, 
and  see  what  could  be  done  for  us  at  the  farm  house.  I 
offered  myself  immediately,  and  so  did  Courtenay  and 
Mercer.  The  others,  being  older,  were  willing  to  stay 
in  the  coach  until  we  returned  with  our  news. 

Off  we  went  across  a  field,  and  then  into  the  woods. 
The  rain  had  now  ceased  and  there  were  some  breaks  in 
the  clouds,  though  a  shadow  far  down  on  the  western 
horizon  told  us  of  coming  night.  We  tramped  through 
the  dripping  woods,  but  we  were  cheerful  again,  for  the 
tide  of  life  rose  too  high  in  us  three  to  be  checked. 

"  The  house  that  we  are  going  to,"  said  the  driver, 
"  belongs  to  an  old  fellow  named  Moore,  as  sour  as  vine- 
gar, but  as  rich  as  cream.  He  has  neither  child  nor  wife, 
and  only  two  black  servants  live  with  him.  He'll  take 
us  in  if  we  pay  him  well." 

We  reached  the  house,  a  solid  two-story  structure  of 
heavy  logs,  standing  in  a  small  yard,  inclosed  by  a  high 
rail  fence,  staked  and  ridered.  Moore,  a  hard-faced  man 
of  sixty,  appeared  in  the  doorway.  He  was  short  and 
crusty  in  his  answers,  but  said  he  was  willing  to  keep  us 
for  the  night  if  we  would  pay  his  price,  and  show  in 
advance  that  we  had  the  money.  We  took  out  of  our 
pockets  gold  enough  to  settle  a  night's  lodging  for  a 
large  party  and  jingled  it  in  his  face  until  his  eyes  glis- 


ANOTHER  SIDE  OF  A  PURITAN.  H7 

tened  at  the  mellow  clink.  Then  we  returned  for  the 
rest  of  our  shipwrecked  mariners. 

We  left  the  broken  coach  in  the  road  and  all  went  to 
Moore's  house,  taking  the  horses  with  us.  The  animals 
v;;ere  put  in  a  stable  in  the  rear  of  the  dwelling,  where 
the  driver  attended  to  them  himself,  while  we  gathered 
ill  a  group  in  one  of  the  rooms  of  the  house  and  waited 
for  supper.  The  two  black  servants,  of  whom  the  driver 
hid  spoken,  a  middle-aged  man  and  his  wife,  both  very 
sour  and  grim,  appeared  at  intervals,  passing  through 
the  room  on  their  way  to  their  duties,  though  neither 
spoke  to  us. 

But  we  were  a  merry  party  now,  since  we  were  warm 
and  dry,  and  the  pleasant  odours  that  tickled  our  noses 
told  of  good  things  to  come.  Joke  and  story  went  around, 
even  Major  Northcote  seeming  to  share  in  the  general 
good  humour,  and  the  best  story-teller  was  the  favourite. 
It  is  not  your  pious  men  who  prosper  in  their  travels. 

We  were  in  a  large  apartment,  a  kind  of  dining  room, 
sitting  room,  and  bedroom  combined.  At  one  end  was 
a  wide  fireplace,  in  which  a  small  fire  was  burning,  for 
the  evening  was  chill.  Strings  of  red  pepper  and  pop- 
corn and  small  smoked  hams  hung  over  the  mantel.  This 
looked  comfortable  and  homelike,  despite  the  scanty  fur- 
niture of  the  room  and  its  general  slipshod  appearance. 
The  fireplace,  with  its  smoked  adornments,  reminded  me 
of  our  kitchen  at  home  in  Kentucky,  and  it  was  easy  then 
to  conjure  up  pleasant  visions. 

The  black  woman  came  in  and  spread  the  table,  and 
supper  was  brought  to  us — bacon  crisply  fried,  eggs 
turned  over,  hot  biscuits  with  yellow  butter,  dried  apples 
stewed,  and  extremely  good  coffee.  It  was  a  much  better 
supper  than  we  had  expected,  and  though  we  were  to  pay 
for  it  nobly,  which  was  so  much  extra  in  the  cost  of  our 
journey,  we  did  not  mind  it  just  then,  and  became  as 
merry  as  kings,  or  as  merry  as  kings  ought  to  be,  consid- 
ering that  they  do  little  but  try  to  enjoy  themselves. 


118  A  HEEALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

But  an  end  must  come  to  the  play  of  knife  and  fork, 
and  that  end  came  for  us  at  last.  We  leaned  back  in 
our  chairs  and  sighed  with  content.  The  driver,  who  sat 
at  the  head  of  the  table,  a  place  that  he  deserved  if  ever 
man  did,  looked  down  at  us  with  twinkling  eyes. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  I  have  saved  the  best  for 
the  last.  I  have  been  in  Mr.  Moore's  house  before,  and 
I  know  its  resources.  Mr.  Moore,  will  you  not  send 
Sam  for  the  large  brown  jug?  Remember  that  we  ex- 
change gold  for  it." 

Our  landlord  nodded  to  the  black  man,  and  Sam  went 
out,  returning  presently  with  a  capacious  jug,  to  which 
much  dust  and  some  straws  clung.  The  driver  pulled 
the  stopper,  and  a  penetrating  odour  of  the  most  pleasant 
quality  arose  and  permeated  the  room  as  he  filled  all  our 
glasses  with  the  precious  old  whisky.  Then  we  drank, 
for  we  had  been  in  the  wet  and  cold,  and  the  blood 
rose  to  our  heads  and  we  talked  in  loud  voices;  nor 
did  we  spare  the  rich  liquor  and  content  ourselves  with 
a  single  drink.  The  jug  went  around  once,  twice,  and 
again. 

Our  elders  were  setting  us  an  example — of  what  kind 
I  don't  pretend  to  say.  Talk  and  laugh  grew  louder, 
glass  clinked  against  glass,  and  the  big  brown  jug  nobly 
gave  up  its  contents. 

"  A  merry  evening  is  not  merry  without  a  song,"  said 
some  one. 

"  A  song!     A  song!  "  repeated  the  others. 

"  Who  can  sing?  "  I  asked. 

"  I  can,"  said  Jonathan  Starbuck,  prim  Puritan  mer- 
chant of  Boston,  standing  up. 

We  cheered  with  clap  of  hand  and  stamp  of  feet.  He 
unbuttoned  his  coat  and  threw  it  back  to  give  his  chest 
and  lungs  room.  The  ordinary  sober  brick-red  of  his 
face  had  brightened  into  crimson,  and  his  eyes  were 
gleaming. 

"  Lads,"  he  said,  "  did  you  ever  hear  of  a  ship  called 


ANOTHER  SIDE  OF  A  PURITAN.  H9 

the  Bon  Homme  Richard,  and  a  captain  named  Paul 
Jones?" 

"  Yes!  yes!  "  we  shouted. 

Every  child  in  America  knew  how  Paul  Jones  and 
the  Bon  Homme  Kichard  had  taken  the  Serapis.  I  looked 
around  to  see  in  what  manner  Major  Northcote  would  take 
this,  but  he  had  quietly  left  the  room. 

"  I  wish  I'd  been  there,"  said  Courtenay. 

"I  was  there!"  said  the  old  merchant.  "I  fought 
on  the  deck  of  the  Bon  Homme  Richard,  when  our  shoes 
ran  blood,  and  Paul  Jones,  whether  to  fight  or  to  sail, 
was  the  best  of  all  the  captains  that  sailed  the  seas!  A 
pirate,  the  English  called  him,  but  they  would  have  been 
willing  to  pay  their  weight  in  gold  for  a  few  pirates  like 
him! " 

"  A  cheer  for  the  veteran  of  the  Bon  Homme  Rich- 
ard," called  Courtenay. 

The  roof  quivered  and  the  windows  rattled. 

The  old  merchant  stood  before  us,  his  face  flushing 
with  pride  as  the  last  echo  of  our  cheer  died.  But  he 
was  not  a  merchant  now,  the  fire  in  his  eyes  was  not  that 
of  the  trader  of  nearly  sixty.  It  belonged  to  the  wild 
boy  of  twenty,  who  fought  while  his  ship  sank  under 
him,  and,  cutlass  in  teeth,  climbed  with  Paul  Jones, 
through  the  smoke  and  flame,  to  the  enemy's  deck  and 
made  it  his  own,  by  the  right  of  the  strongest  and  the 
bravest. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I  was  there,  and  I  saw  and  I  heard 
it  all:  a  hell  of  blood  and  steel  and  blazing  gunpowder 
and  dripping  flesh,  but  a  hell  in  which  I  am  proud  to 
have  had  my  part,  old  as  I  am.  But  I  was  with  him,  too, 
when  we  showed  our  heels  to  the  hostile  fleets,  and  it  is 
of  such  a  time  that  I'll  sing  you  a  song.  Listen!  It's 
like  the  sea  now,  when  the  night's  dark  and  wild.  Hear 
the  shriek  of  the  wind  and  the  beat  of  the  raindrops  on 
the  window  panes!  The  old  ship  rides  the  waves  now, 
and,  with  Paul  Jones  on  the  poop,  she  laughs  at  storms!  " 


120  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

I  was  on  a  ship  sure  enough,  for  the  room  was  rock- 
ing just  like  a  ship  in  a  sea,  and  did  not  the  cry  of  the 
wind  without  tell  of  high  waves  chasing  each  other  over 
the  angry  ocean? 

Resting  one  hand  upon  the  table,  Starbuck  sang,  in 
a  deep,  mellow,  and  rolling  bass  voice  that  rose  far  above 
the  whistle  of  the  wind  or  the  beat  of  raindrop  on  win- 
dow pane: 

Tis  of  a  gallant  Yankee  ship  that  flew  the  Stripes  and  Stars, 

And  the  whistling  wind  from  the  west-nor'west  blew  through  the 

pitch-pine  spars. 

With  her  starboard  tack  aboard,  my  boys,  she  hung  upon  the  gale. 
On  an  autumn  night  we  raised  the  light  on  the  old  head  of  Kinsale. 

It  was  a  clear  and  cloudless  night,  and  the  wind  blew  steady  and 

strong, 

As  gayly  over  the  sparkling  deep  our  good  ship  bowled  along ; 
With  the  foaming  seas  beneath  her  bow  the  fiery  waves  she  spread, 
And  bending  low  her  bosom  of  snow,  she  buried  her  lee  cathead. 

There  was  no  talk  of  short'ning  sail  by  him  who  walked  the  poop, 
And  under  the  press  of  her  pond'ring  jib  the  boom  bent  like  a  hoop, 
And  the  groaning  waterways  told  the  strain  that  held  her  stout 

main  tack. 
But  he  only  laughed  as  he  glanced  abaft  at  a  white  and  silvery 

track. 

The  mid-tide  meets  in  the  channel  waves  that  flow  from  shore  to 
shore, 

And  the  mist  hung  heavy  upon  the  land  from  Featherstone  to  Dun- 
more, 

And  that  sterling  light  on  Tuskar  rock,  where  the  old  bell  tolls  the 
hour, 

And  the  beacon  light  that  shone  so  bright  was  quenched  on  Water- 
ford  tower. 

What  looms  up  on  the  starboard  bow?  What  hangs  upon  the  breeze f 
'Tis  time  our  good  ship  hauled  her  wind  abreast  the  old  Saltees ; 
For  by  her  ponderous  press  of  sail  and  by  her  consorts  four, 
We  saw  our  morning  visitor  was  a  British  man-of-war. 


ANOTHER  SIDE  OF  A  PURITAN.  121 

Up  spoke  our  noble  captain  then,  as  a  shot  ahead  of  us  passed, 
"  Haul  snug  your  flowing  courses,  lay  your  topsail  to  the  mast." 
The  Englishmen  gave  three  loud  hurrahs  from  the  deck  of  their 

covered  ark 
And  we  answered  back  by  a  solid  broadside  from  the  deck  of  our 

patriot  bark. 

"  Out  booms !  Out  booms  ! "  our  skipper  cried.    "  Out  booms  and 

give  her  sheet." 
And  the  swiftest  keel  that  was  ever  launched  shot  ahead  of  the 

British  fleet.    ' 
And  amid  a  thundering  shower  of  shot,  with  stunsails  hoisting 

away, 
Down  the  North  Channel  Paul  Jones  did  steer,  just  at  the  break  of 

day. 

The  singer  gathered  enthusiasm  and  his  song  force 
and  volume  as  he  went,  and  when  he  turned  back  and 
sang  it  again,  we  joined  him  in  the  rousing  lines,  with 
such  a  chorus  that  it  was  not  the  beat  of  raindrop  and 
the  rush  of  wind  alone  that  made  the  window  panes 
rattle.  I  was  sure  I  was  at  sea  now,  because  I  was  rock- 
ing more  than  ever  and  I  could  hear  the  shriek  of  the 
wind  through  the  sails  and  see  the  flying  foam  that  the 
ship  left  in  her  track  as  her  nose  took  the  waves,  and 
even  hear  the  guns  of  Paul  Jones  as  the  "  swiftest  keel 
that  was  ever  launched  shot  ahead  of  the  British  fleet," 
giving  it  a  leaden  salute  as  it  flew. 

"Now,  all  together,"  said  the  old  Puritan,  and  we 
thundered  out: 

The  mid-tide  meets  in  the  channel  waves  that  flow  from  shore  to 
shore, 

And  the  mist  hung  heavy  upon  the  land  from  Featherstone  to  Dun- 
more, 

And  that  sterling  light  on  Tuskar  rock,  where  the  old  bell  tolls  the 
hour, 

And  the  beacon  light  that  shone  so  bright  was  quenched  on  Water- 
ford  tower. 
9 


122  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

We  stopped,  for  the  old  Puritan  had  put  his  hands  to 
his  eyes,  and  I  thought  I  saw  a  tear  shining  on  the  lid. 

"  If  I  were  only  twenty  again,"  he  said,  "  money  and 
everything  else  I  have  might  go  to  the  bottom  of  the 
sea!  Make  me  twenty  again,  and  put  me  on  a  Yankee 
deck  with  a  captain  like  Paul  Jones,  and  I  ask  no  more! 
They  boast  themselves  the  rulers  of  the  sea,  lads,  and 
so  they  are  when  it's  French  and  Spaniard  and  Portu- 
guese they  have  to  fight,  but  in  the  days  of  Paul  Jones 
we  were  as  good  as  they,  and  now  we  are  better,  man  for 
man,  gun  for  gun,  and  ship  for  ship.  I  tell  you,  it's  so, 
lads.  And  if  the  war  comes,  John  Bull  will  get  his  face 
burned,  and  his  heart  will  be  made  sick." 

Again  the  room  resounded  with  our  cheers.  I  had 
heard  something  like  this  from  Charlton  in  Washington, 
but  still,  in  my  cooler  moments,  I  did  not  believe  that 
our  twenty  little  ships  could  do  anything  against  their 
thousand. 

Then  we  gave  a  cheer  for  Jonathan  Starbuck,  Puritan 
and  veteran  of  the  Bon  Homme  Eichard,  and  another 
for  Paul  Jones,  and  another  for  the  Yankee  navy,  and 
another  for  ourselves,  and  another  for  everybody  who 
liked  us,  and  then  we  stopped  because  we  had  no  more 
voices. 

Mr.  Starbuck  sank  down  in  his  chair  and  again  put 
his  hand  over  his  face. 

"God  forgive  me,"  he  groaned,  "for  letting  myself 
be  led  off  again  by  the  lust  of  blood,  the  hell  of  bat- 
tle! " 

"  You  were  a  hero,  fighting  for  your  country,"  I  said. 

"I  am  more  than  fifty  years  old,"  he  said,  "and 
an  enemy  of  war.  God  forgive  me!  " 

He  slipped  away  from  the  table,  and  presently  our 
little  party  broke  up,  it  being  full  time.  Besides,  the 
dining  room  was  now  needed  as  a  bedroom. 

Some  of  us  were  provided  with  beds,  and  some  were 
not.  I  was  one  of  the  "  some  were  not,"  and  six  and  a 


ANOTHER  SIDE  OF  A  PURITAN.  123 

half  feet  of  the  dining-room  floor  were  allotted  to  me. 
I  did  not  mind,  as  I  was  used  to  roughing  it,  and  to  a 
man  who  had  slept  out  under  trees  a  hard  floor  for  a  bed 
is  a  small  matter. 

I  had  two  blankets  from  farmer  Moore  to  put  beneath 
me,  and  my  heavy  rough  overcoat  to  spread  over  me. 
I  took  off  my  ordinary  coat,  and  put  it  under  my  head 
as  a  pillow.  Courtenay,  Mercer,  and  two  others  also 
slept  on  the  dining-room  floor.  The  driver  was  the  last 
to  make  ready  for  sleep,  and  he  blew  out  the  light  and 
lay  down. 

It  was  still  raining.  I  could  hear  it  as  the  drops  were 
driven  against  the  thin  glass  by  the  irregular  bursts  of 
wind.  It  seemed  to  be  very  dark,  too,  for  when  the  two 
candles  were  blown  out  but  little  light  came  through  the 
window.  The  reek  of  food  and  of  the  whisky  that  had 
been  drunk  impregnated  the  air  of  the  room,  but  we  were 
all  too  sleepy  to  care.  Besides,  I  was  still  at  sea,  though 
the  waves  were  not  rolling  so  high  as  they  were  a  half 
hour  before.  Some  dogs  outside  howled  at  the  moon, 
which  they  could  not  see.  There  was  rhythm  in  their 
howls,  and  that  and  the  gentle  rocking  of  the  room 
like  a  cradle  lulled  me.  I  went  to  sleep,  and  with  great 
promptness  proceeded  to  have  a  nightmare. 

A  large  man  threw  me  down  and  sat  upon  my  chest, 
crushing  bone  and  body.  My  muscles  became  limp,  and 
my  breath  seemed  to  cease.  I  could  not  make  any  effort, 
I  could  not  even  will  to  move,  but  I  could  feel  the  sweat 
rising  upon  my  forehead,  and  I  could  see  that  the  two 
eyes  in  the  man's  head  were  not  eyes  at  all,  but  two  coals 
of  fire. 

Just  at  the  moment  when  I  had  resigned  myself  to 
death,  I  awoke  and  found  that  I  was  wholly  alive.  No 
man  was  sitting  on  my  chest,  and  all  in  the  room  except 
myself  were  sleeping  well,  if  the  sound  of  loud  breathing 
could  be  taken  as  proof.  The  air  there  was  still  heavy  and 
thick,  and  knowing  very  well  what  had  ailed  me  I  slipped 


A  HERALD  OP  THE  WEST. 

my  coat  on,  and  passing  into  the  hall  opened  the  front 
door  and  breathed  the  fresh  air  of  the  night.  It  was  still 
raining,  and  the  darkness  hung  heavy,  but  I  put  my  head 
out  and  let  the  wind  dash  the  cold  drops  in  my  face. 
It  was  wonderfully  refreshing  after  my  nightmare  and 
the  close,  hot  room.  I  drew  my  head  back,  and  the  voice 
of  Major  Northcote  asked: 

"Do  you  feel  better  after  your  revel,  Philip?" 

He  was  standing  there  fully  dressed,  and  in  reply  to 
my  questioning  look  said: 

"  I  could  not  sleep  because  of  the  noise  you  and  your 
comrades  made,  being  an  old  man  and  a  light  sleeper 
at  the  best." 

"Why  do  you  call  it  a  revel?"  I  asked  in  reply  to 
his  first  question,  which  plainly  had  been  asked  with  sar- 
castic intent. 

"  Was  not  that  the  name  for  it?  "  he  replied,  "  or  was 
it  too  mild?  It  would  be  better  to  say  a  common  drink- 
ing bout.  And  that  old  Boston  merchant,  too,  singing 
a  wild  song,  as  if  he  were  a  reckless  boy.  You  have  no 
dignity  in  this  country." 

He  was  sneering  now. 

"  Perhaps  it  was  the  best  impulse  in  him  that  made 
him  sing  that  song,"  I  retorted;  "  and  if  you  Call  drink- 
ing a  lack  of  dignity,  then  there  is  not  much  dignity  to 
waste  in  your  beloved  England." 

"That  is  beside  the  mark,"  he  replied;  "but  I  can 
tell  you  again,  Cousin  Philip,  that  I  am  sorry  to  see  you 
in  such  company  and  liking  it.  I  offered  you  other  and 
greater  opportunities  once,  a  chance  for  a  career  among 
people  who  are  not  provincials.  How  can  you  live  a 
full  life  here?  Have  you  not  begun  to  see  yet  the  worth 
of  what  you  have  refused  so  lightly?  " 

I  could  not  tell  whether  he  was  speaking  from  re- 
gard, or  what  he  thought  to  be  regard,  of  me,  or  because 
he  believed  he  saw  a  chance  to  attack  us. 

"  The  people  at  whom  you  are  sneering  are  quite  good 


ANOTHER  SIDE  OF  A  PUHITAN.  125 

enough  for  me,"  I  said,  "  and,  besides,  they  are  my  own. 
I  wish  no  others." 

"  As  you  choose,"  he  said.  "  A  man  has  a  right  to 
his  own  opinion,  however  bad  it  may  be.  But  lest  you 
should  wonder  what  has  become  of  me,  I  tell  you  that  I 
am  to  leave  early  in  the  morning  by  a  private  conveyance 
that  I  have  obtained  from  the  man  who  owns  this  house." 

Again  I  wished  him  a  safe  journey,  but  secretly  I 
trusted  that  he  would  sail  for  England  as  soon  as  he 
could.  Then  I  went  back  to  the  room,  and  soon  fell  into 
a  sounder  and  better  sleep. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

WE   SEE   A   PLAY. 

I  AWOKE  the  next  morning  with  Mercer  pulling  my 
arm. 

"  Are  you  going  to  sleep  all  day?  "  he  asked.  "  Your 
kinsman,  Major  Northcote,  has  gone  already,  and  break- 
fast is  waiting  for  the  rest  of  us." 

The  company  was  rather  grim  and  quiet  at  the  break- 
fast table,  and  Major  Northcote's  early  departure  alone 
caused  no  comment.  An  hour  or  two  later  another  coach 
from  Philadelphia  for  New  York,  fortunately  with  but 
few  passengers,  picked  us  up,  and  we  continued  our  jour- 
ney along  a  muddy  road,  but  on  a  day  of  sunshine  and 
brightness,  over  an  earth  on  which  the  hues  of  spring 
were  deepening.  Night  was  coming  when  we  reached 
Paulus  Hook,  and  taking  the  boat  in  order  to  cross  the 
North  River  we  saw  the  lights  of  New  York  twinkling  on 
the  farther  shore.  As  our  company  was  about  to  separate 
Mr.  Starbuck,  who  knew  that  we  would  come  to  Boston, 
asked  us  to  visit  him  there,  and  promised  to  give  us  any 
help  that  he  could. 

We  had  selected  Fraunce's  Tavern  as  our  stopping 
place,  and  being  somewhat  wearied  by  the  long  journey 
we  proceeded  to  it  at  once..  Early  the  next  morning  I 
went  to  the  new  City  Hall  to  present  one  of  my  letters 
from  Mr.  Gallatin  to  Mayor  Jacob  Radcliffe.  He  received . 
me  in  kindly  fashion,  promised  to  give  me  all  the  assist- 
ance he  could,  and  asked  me  to  call  upon  him  at  his  house. 
I  thanked  him,  and,  noticing  that  others  were  waiting  to 
126 


WE  SEE  A  PLAY.  127 

see  him,  I  went  out  and  rejoined  Courtenay  and  Mercer, 
who  were  waiting  in  the  fine  little  park  on  the  north  side 
of  which  the  City  Hall  stands.  At  the  southeast  corner 
of  the  park  we  saw  another  building  that  attracted  my 
attention,  and  which  a  watchman  told  us  was  the  famous 
Park  Theatre. 

We  approached  the  theatre  more  closely  and  saw  from 
some  bills  printed  in  very  large  letters  that  George 
Frederick  Cooke,  the  renowned  English  actor,  was  to 
play  Kichard  III  there  that  night.  This  was  an  oppor- 
tunity that  none  of  us  dreamed  of  missing. 

I  bought  three  tickets  for  the  evening's  performance, 
and  then  we  strolled  through  the  city,  noting  the  great 
business  and  activity  of  its  people  and  the  large  amount 
of  building  that  was  going  on,  despite  the  heavy  losses 
caused  by  the  embargo  and  the  confiscation  of  our  ships 
by  England  and  France.  We  soon  wandered  to  the  north 
end  of  the  town  to  Canal  Street,  as  they  now  call  the 
new  avenue  across  the  island,  through  the  centre  of 
which  flowed  the  canal  dug  by  the  Dutch,  generations 
ago.  The  work  on  this  fine  avenue  had  just  been  com- 
pleted. It  was  one  hundred  feet  wide,  with  the  ditch 
or  little  canal  flowing  down  the  centre,  while  on  each 
side  was  a  broad  drive  lined  with  fine  residences.  There 
were  shade  trees  and  some  benches,  and  we  took  seats  on 
one  of  the  latter  to  enjoy  the  bright  morning. 

Presently  a  wisp  of  a  man  came  along  and  sat  down 
on  one  end  of  our  bench.  He  was  of  my  own  age,  but 
very  far  from  my  size.  His  raiment  was  abundant  and 
gorgeous  to  behold,  the  most  brilliant  portions  of  it 
being  an  embroidered  waistcoat,  which  flamed  in  the  rays 
of  the  sun,  and  a  great  blue  silk  muffler  or  tie  wound 
around  his  throat.  He  carried  a  large  cane,  which  at 
intervals  he  twirled  skilfully  and  daintily  around  his  fin- 
gers, and  he  had  sprinkled  himself  with  such  strong  per- 
fumes that  the  wind  got  a  touch  of  them  all. 

Presently  his  cane,  in  one  of  its  many  revolutions, 


128  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

struck  lightly  against  me.  I  expected  him  to  ask  my 
pardon,  but  not  seeming  to  notice  it  he  continued  his 
twirling  of  the  cane  and  his  bowings  to  the  ladies,  vary- 
ing both  now  and  then  with  a  great  yawn. 

"  Sir,  you  owe  me  an  apology,"  I  said,  tapping  him 
on  the  shoulder,  not  really  caring  for  the  blow  but  curi- 
ous to  hear  what  he  would  say. 

He  looked  at  me  as  if  he  had  not  noticed  my  presence 
before. 

"  Ah,  true,  I  forgot,"  he  said,  smothering  a  yawn  with 
a  small  white  hand  that  had  rings  on  it.  "  Consider  it 
done." 

He  interested  me  and  I  pursued  the  subject. 

"  Sir,"  I  said,  "  I  do  not  consider  anything  done  until 
it  is  done." 

"  Then  I  apologize,"  he  said  in  languid  tones. 

He  said  nothing  more  for  some  time,  and  we  sat 
watching  the  people.  A  dozen  marines  in  the  English 
uniform  passed.  I  guessed  that  they  were  a  detachment 
from  the  British  war  ships  on  watch  at  the  entrance  to 
the  harbour,  and  my  heart  burned  at  this  evidence  of  our 
disgrace  and  of  Great  Britain's  arrogance  and  hostility. 

"  They  should  not  be  allowed  to  put  foot  on  shore," 
I  said  to  Courtenay.  "  These  are  the  men  who  impress 
and  murder  our  sailors,  confiscate  our  ships,  and  insult  us 
all  over  the  world." 

"  We'll  fight  'em  yet,"  said  Felix. 

"  And  if  you  fight  them,  do  you  think  you  will  whip 
them?  "  asked  the  fop,  suddenly  speaking  up. 

"I  would  think  very  little  of  the  American  who 
didn't  think  so,"  said  Mercer. 

"I  don't  think  it,"  said  the  dandy.  "Don't  you 
know  that  Great  Britain  is  the  most  glorious  of  all  na- 
tions?" 

"  Her  greatness  and  glory  may  be  what  you  say,"  I 
said,  "  but  she  is  also  the  most  bitter  and  arrogant  enemy 
that  we  have." 


WE  SEE  A  PLAY.  129 

"All  our  fault!  all  our  fault!"  he  said,  waving  his 
cane.  "  We  should  not  have  rebelled  against  her  kind 
care  and  protection.  Naturally  she  chastises  us  now 
with  a  firm  hand.  But  his  Majesty  and  his  advisers 
mean  it  for  our  own  good,  and,  besides,  they  are  engaged 
now  in  a  mortal  struggle  to  save  the  world  from  the 
dominion  of  the  usurper,  despot,  and  tyrant,  Bonaparte." 

This  was  a  little  more  than  I  expected.  I  had  heard 
that  there  were  some  fops  and  half-breed  Americans  in 
the  Eastern  cities  who  preached  such  a  doctrine,  but  I 
did  not  look  for  anything  so  extreme.  Such  talk  would 
have  sounded  perfectly  natural  from  Major  Northcote. 

"  Do  you,  then,"  I  asked,  "  defend  Great  Britain  in 
her  aggressions  upon  us?  " 

"  Certainly,"  he  replied  with  much  superciliousness. 
"With  our  chaotic  government  we  are  bound  to  go  to 
pieces  in  time,  and  we  will  be  reannexed  by  her.  She 
has  the  only  proper  and  permanent  form  of  government." 

This  was  the  man,  and  not  I,  to  whom  Major  North- 
cote  should  have  preached  his  doctrines. 

"  Do  you  want  a  king?  "  I  asked. 

"  Why,  yes,  of  course!  " 

"  Then  you  should  emigrate." 

"  We  shall  see  who  is  to  emigrate,"  he  said. 

He  began  to  twirl  his  cane  again,  and  whistled  some 
foreign  air.  In  a  few  minutes  he  rose  and  strolled  away, 
still  whistling  and  twirling  his  cane. 

"  A  curious  little  fellow,"  said  Mercer,  looking  after 
the  little  woman-man. 

"  At  any  rate,  we'll  never  see  him  again,"  said  Cour- 
tenay,  "and  I'm  glad  of  it.  But  I  wonder  what  his 
name  is." 

We  continued  our  wanderings  about  the  city,  but  re- 
turned to  our  tavern  before  dusk,  wishing  to  array  our- 
selves in  our  best  for  the  play,  as  we  understood  that  it 
was  very  fashionable  and  a  great  crowd  was  likely  to  be 
present.  These  toilets  completed  to  our  satisfaction  we 


130  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

went  to  the  theatre,  and  found  that  the  people  were  ar- 
riving already.  Our  tickets  gave  us  seats  close  to  the 
stage,  where  the  view  would  be  good,  but  I  found  some 
difficulty  in  disposing  of  my  knees.  Then  we  watched 
the  people  enter.  I  recognised  Mayor  Badcliffe  as  he 
passed  to  his  box,  and  another  man,  who  came  in  a  mo- 
ment later,  was,  as  I  learned  afterward,  the  celebrated 
De  Witt  Clinton,  then  a  candidate  for  the  lieutenant- 
governorship  of  the  State,  much  to  the  surprise  of  every- 
body, who  thought  him  above  anything  but  the  gov- 
ernorship. He  was  followed  soon  by  Governor  Tomp- 
kins  himself,  who  was  down  on  a  short  visit  from  Al- 
bany. We  saw  also  the  people  of  New  York,  those  noted 
for  wealth  and  social  position,  and  the  theatre,  when  it 
was  filled,  was  the  most  glittering  show  that  I  had  ever 
beheld,  both  the  men  and  the  women  being  dressed  with 
great  richness. 

But  the  curtain  rose  on  the  plots  and  passions  of  the 
humpbacked  Richard,  and  while  I  was  absorbed  in  the 
play  a  little  man  pushed  by  me,  followed  by  two  or  three 
others.  It  seemed  to  me  to  be  an  affront  to  everybody 
that  they  should  come  in  so  late,  disturbing  more  punc- 
tual people  and  forcing  a  large  man  like  myself  to  shove 
his  knees  under  him  that  they  might  have  room  to  pass. 
This  annoyance  was  not  decreased  when  I  looked  around 
and  saw  that  the  little  man  was  the  fop  with  whom  we 
had  had  the  small  passage  of  words  in  the  morning,  and 
whom  I  had  never  expected  to  see  again.  He  sank  down 
in  the  seat  on  my  right,  Courtenay  and  Mercer  being  on 
my  left,  and,  putting  a  little  round  glass  to  his  eye,  stared 
at  me  for  a  moment  with  an  air  of  languid  insolence. 
Then  he  turned  and  talked  in  exhausted  tones  to 
his  companions.  I  heard  something  about  "Western 
giant,"  but  caught  nothing  more,  as  I  turned  my  atten- 
tion to  the  stage,  though  I  had  taken  time  to  notice  that 
his  three  companions  were  men  of  the  same  stripe  as 
himself. 


WE  SEE  A  PLAY.  131 

When  the  first  act  closed  and  the  curtain  fell,  the 
fops  began  to  talk  and  to  tell  each  other  how  tiresome  it 
all  was.  There  were  no  real  actors  now,  at  least  one 
would  have  to  go  to  Europe  to  see  them,  and  nobody 
would  expect  a  player  of  great  merit  to  come  to  such  a 
country  as  this.  I  had  an  idea  that  they  meant  to  annoy 
us,  and  soon  became  convinced  of  it,  for  they  looked 
directly  at  us. 

"  If  you  don't  like  the  play/'  I  said  to  the  little  man, 
"why  did  you  come?  One  does  not  come  here  to  do 
penance." 

He  put  his  glass  again  to  his  eye  and  gave  me  a  very 
supercilious  stare. 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  he,  "  that  it  is  my  own  exclu- 
sive business  whether  I  like  the  play  or  not?  " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  I  said;  "  you  may  have  the 
right  not  to  like  it,  but  we  also  have  the  right  to  demand 
that  you  keep  your  opinions  to  yourself  and  not  disturb 
the  audience  by  uttering  them." 

The  fop  was  about  to  reply,  but  the  curtain  was  rising 
on  another  act,  and  our  neighbours  were  demanding  si- 
lence so  emphatically  that  he  was  compelled  to  obey. 
I  was  glad  of  it,  as  I  wanted  to  watch  the  play,  and,  be- 
sides, it  was  no  place  for  petty  wrangling.  I  was  already 
ashamed  of  my  part  in  it. 

The  curtain  went  down  again,  and  the  people  began 
to  talk. 

"  Mr.  Cooke  is  a  great  actor,"  I  said. 

"  But  he  is  an  Englishman,"  spoke  up  the  little  fop 
in  an  ironical  tone,  "  and  surely  you  will  not  admit  that 
an  Englishman  can  do  anything  well." 

"  His  nationality  is  nothing  to  me,"  I  said.  "  I 
speak  only  of  the  actor." 

"  I  have  no  doubt,"  he  said  in  the  same  ironical  tone, 
"  that  he  will  be  extremely  pleased  to  hear  that  he  has 
won  the  approval  of  a  young  man  just  from  the  banks  of 
the  Ohio." 


132  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

"I'll  thank  you  not  to  speak  to  me  again,"  I  said. 
"I  don't  want  to  be  seen  in  conversation  with  you.  I 
don't  know  any  of  these  people  around  us,  but  I  may 
in  time,  and  they  would  remember  it  against  me." 

His  eyes  flashed  angrily  at  me,  but  the  curtain  was 
rising  on  the  last  act  and  I  turned  my  eyes  to  the  stage, 
where  I  kept  them  until  the  play  was  over. 

There  was  a  great  bustle  and  much  noise  as  the  people 
rose  to  go.  They  began  to  talk  of  the  play  and  many 
things  as  they  put  on  their  cloaks  and  other  wraps.  I 
came  back  with  regret  from  the  victorious  field  of  Bos- 
worth  to  the  year  of  my  own  time — 1811. 

"  Will  you  kindly  let  us  pass?  " 

It  was  the  little  fop  who  was  speaking,  and  while  his 
words  were  polite  his  tone  was  not. 

"You  are  blocking  up  all  the  aisle  with  your  large 
Western  body,"  he  continued. 

His  comrades  laughed,  and  he  made  some  more  sneer- 
ing allusions  to  what  he  was  pleased  to  consider  my  lack 
of  tone  and  fashion,  assuming  that  I  was  ignorant  because 
I  came  from  the  West.  He  was  decidedly  insulting,  and 
I  know  my  face  turned  red.  Courtenay  and  Mercer  too 
looked  angry. 

"Just  a  moment,"  I  said  politely,  "and  I  will  clear 
the  way  for  you." 

I  had  brought  my  heavy  frieze  overcoat  with  me, 
thinking  that  the  night  might  turn  cold,  as  spring  was 
as  yet  by  no  means  a  certainty  in  the  New  York  latitude. 
I  put  my  arms  through  the  sleeves,  drew  the  coat  upon 
my  shoulders,  and  hastily  began  to  button  it,  that  I 
might  move  on  and  give  the  little  man  and  his  com- 
rades a  clear  path.  The  fop  was  standing  almost  against 
me,  holding  his  cane  stiffly  and  perpendicularly  in  his 
hand,  like  a  soldier  with  a  bayonet  at  drill.  He,  too, 
wore  a  big  coat,  with  the  edges  sticking  out  in  front  like 
great  frills. 

In  my  haste,  I  will  not  undertake  to  account  for  it 


WE  SEE  A  PLAY.  133 

otherwise,  we  were  so  close  together,  I  buttoned  the  but- 
ton of  my  overcoat  into  the  buttonhole  of  his,  and  then 
started  quickly  to  leave  the  theatre,  Courtenay  and  Mer- 
cer going  on  ahead. 

"  I  will  not  delay  you  further,"  I  said  as  I  took  the 
first  step.  "  I  apologize  for  the  inconvenience  that  I 
have  caused  you  already." 

Nearly  all  of  the  people  were  out  of  the  theatre,  and 
hence  there  was  nothing  to  prevent  my  hurrying.  But 
when  I  had  got  a  dozen  steps,  cries  and  curses  arose,  and 
I  noticed  something  dragging  at  me. 

"  Kelease  me,  sir!  Release  me!  What  do  you  mean 
by  such  a  gross  insult?  This  is  unpardonable!  Release 
me  this  instant! " 

I  looked  down  in  surprise,  and  there,  pinned  like  a 
bouquet  to  the  second  button  of  my  overcoat,  was  that 
little  man;  but  failing  to  appreciate  the  honour,  he  was 
as  red  as  a  tomato  in  the  face,  and  was  crying  out  arid 
squirming  like  a  butterfly. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  I  cried  as  I  unbuttoned  him 
from  me  and  put  him  safely  on  his  feet  on  the  floor.  "  I 
hope  you  will  forgive  me.  It  was  an  accident — an  awk- 
ward one — but  still  an  accident.  I  did  not  notice,  and  I 
trust  you  will  overlook  it." 

I  thought  I  would  try  some  of  the  sarcasm  of  which 
he  seemed  to  be  so  fond,  and  it  was  effective.  The  red 
in  his  face  deepened;  in  fact,  I  imagined  that  I  could  see 
a  purple  streak  in  it. 

"  You  have  insulted  me  and  exposed  me  to  ignominy 
before  all  these  people,"  he  cried,  "  and  you  will  have 
to  give  me  satisfaction!  " 

About  a  dozen  people  were  still  left  in  the  theatre, 
and  they  stopped  and  looked  at  us  with  amusement  and 
curiosity. 

"  But  he  has  apologized  already,"  said  Courtenay,  in 
the  corners  of  whose  mouth  I  could  see  a  faint  smile. 
"What  else  do  you  ask?" 


134  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

» 

"  Take  that,  and  I  will  let  you  know  later,"  he  said 
furiously,  thrusting  a  small  card  into  my  hand. 

I  looked  at  it  and  read,  engraved  in  its  centre,  this 
large  name: 

HORACE  WALPOLE  VAN  STEENKERK. 

"  What  am  I  to  do  with  this?  "  I  asked,  not  yet  sus- 
pecting his  meaning. 

"  Keep  it,"  he  said,  "  and  I  will  let  you  know.  That 
is  my  name,  sir." 

"  Let  me  see  it,"  said  Mercer,  reaching  over  and  tak- 
ing it  from  my  hand.  He  examined  it  critically. 

"  The  name  is  too  large  for  you,  Mr.  Van  Steen- 
kerk,"  he  said,  "  and,  besides,  it's  too  much  of  a  mixture; 
the  first  half  is  English,  decidedly  English,  but  the  last 
half  is  Dutch,  decidedly  Dutch." 

"  My  family  is  one  of  the  oldest,  and  therefore  one 
of  the  best  in  New  York,"  said  the  little  man  proudly, 
"  and  my  name  is  representative  of  my  blood  and  race — 
pure  Dutch  on  my  father's  side,  pure  English  on  my 
mother's  side." 

"  Therefore  you  can  not  take  an  insult,"  said  one  of 
his  friends,  "  and  this  gentleman  must  fight  you." 

"That  is  so!"  said  Mr.  Van  Steenkerk  emphat- 
ically. 

I  was  astonished.     I  had  not  suspected  so  much. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  I  must  fight  a  duel  with  you?  " 
I  asked. 

"  Certainly,  unless  you  are  afraid,"  replied  Mr.  Van 
Steenkerk. 

Now,  we  fought  duels  in  Kentucky  and  Tennessee, 
but  here  in  the  North  and  East  they  were  condemned, 
which  seemed  to  me  an  entirely  proper  view  to  take  of 
them.  Moreover,  the  great  shock  caused  by  the  killing 
of  Mr.  Hamilton  by  Mr.  Burr  in  sight  of  this  very  city 
was  remembered  by  everybody. 


WE  SEE  A  PLAY.  135 

New  York  was  the  last  place  in  which  I  expected  to 
receive  a  challenge  to  a  deadly  combat. 

"  Nonsense,"  said  Mercer  quickly ;  "  my  friend,  Mr. 
Philip  Ten  Broeck,  of  Kentucky,  is  not  afraid  of  you  or 
anybody  else;  but  he,  like  Mr.  Courtenay  and  myself, 
thinks  it  absurd  to  fight  a  duel  over  such  a  trivial  matter. 
There  is  no  cause  of  quarrel;  you  can  not  name  one 
yourself." 

But  they  would  have  it  that  I  must  fight,  and 
their  belligerency  increased  with  our  reluctance.  The 
cooler  our  tempers  became,  the  warmer  grew  theirs. 
Mr.  Van  Steenkerk's  chief  friend  was  introduced  as 
Mr.  Percy  Knowlton;  the  names  of  the  others  I 
forget.  We  gave  them  our  names,  and,  as  they  were 
turning  out  the  lights  and  closing  the  theatre,  we  walked 
out  into  the  park  together,  where  we  stopped  in  a 
group. 

"  Then,"  said  Courtenay,  "  you  gentlemen  can  not 
rest  satisfied  unless  our  Mr.  Ten  Broeck  fights  your  Mr. 
Van  Steenkerk." 

"Unless  he  is  willing  to  be  branded  as  a  coward," 
said  Mr.  Knowlton. 

"  That,  of  course,  is  impossible,"  said  Courtenay, 
"  and  since  you  have  no  other  alternative,  Ten  Broeck 
shall  fight  him." 

"  But  I  don't  want  to,"  I  protested. 

"  You  shall  do  it  nevertheless,"  said  Courtenay  firm- 
ly. "  The  choice  of  weapons  is  ours.  We  will  meet  you 
somewhere  to-morrow  and  arrange  the  details;  where 
shall  it  be?  " 

"  I  would  propose  the  old  duelling  ground  at  Wee- 
hawken,"  said  Mr.  Knowlton,  "but  it  would  be  better 
not  to  go  there.  But  I  know  a  good  quiet  spot  over  on 
Long  Island  that  will  do." 

He  named  a  place  far  back  of  the  little  town  of 
Brooklyn,  near  the  sea,  and  described  it  so  that  we  could 
not  miss  it. 


136  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

We  agreed  to  this,  and  saying  good  night  to  each 
other  very  politely  went  to  our  respective  lodgings. 

Courtenay,  Mercer,  and  I  had  a  bed  each  in  a  large 
room  on  the  third  floor  of  Fraunce's  Tavern.  Felix 
lighted  the  lamp,  and  we  sat  down  and  looked  at  each 
other.  I  was  in  no  very  good  humour,  and  I  was  willing 
to  say  that  I  was  not. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Felix,"  I  asked,  "  by  making 
me  fight  that  little  fellow  with  the  big  English-Dutch 
name?  Why,  I  can't  fight  such  a  man! " 

"  You  can  and  you  shall,"  said  Courtenay. 

"  But,"  I  protested,  "  I  was  sent  up  here  on  important 
business  by  the  Government,  and  I  have  no  right  to  fight. 
I  wouldn't  mind  it  so  much  if  he  were  a  man  of  near  my 
own  size,  but  I  couldn't  kill  a  doll  like  that;  it  would 
be  a  disgrace,  and  it  would  be  a  still  greater  disgrace  to  be 
killed  by  him." 

Both  Mercer  and  Courtenay  laughed. 

"  But  you  will  have  to  fight,  Phil,"  said  Courtenay; 
"if  you  don't  those  fellows  will  post  you  all  over  town 
as  a  coward,  and  you  can't  stand  that,  however  much 
you  may  be  opposed  to  duelling.  It  would  be  a  life- 
long disgrace  to  you  at  home.  You  are  in  this  mud- 
dle, and  you  will  have  to  fight  your  way  out  of  it,  liter- 
ally." 

I  recognised  the  truth  of  what  he  said. 

"  Sit  there,"  he  continued,  "  and  Tom  and  I  will  talk 
this  over.  Eemember  that  you  are  completely  in  our 
hands,  and  will  have  nothing  to  do  until  you  face  your 
antagonist  and  the  word  is  given  to  you  to  fight." 

They  withdrew  into  a  corner  and  began  to  talk  in  low 
tones,  while  I  sat  in  my  chair  and  stared  glumly  through 
the  window  at  the  darkness.  I  was  both  angry  and 
ashamed  at  being  drawn  into  such  an  affair,  and  my 
shame  was  all  the  greater  because  I  believed  that  it  was 
partly  my  own  fault.  I  should  have  treated  the  lit- 
tle dandy  with  contempt,  ignoring  all  his  sneers.  Evi- 


zz  A  FLAT.  137 

he  wno*  a 


Weradtrrthe 
the  d*T,  I  dept  m»  mm 


10 


CHAPTER  XII. 

AT   THE   DUELLING   GHOUND. 

WE  awoke  early,  and  Courtenay  went  out  to  the 
shops  to  buy  some  things  which  he  said  he  needed.  He 
returned  presently  with  two  or  three  bundles,  but  I  did 
not  ask  him  about  them,  having  the  business  with  Van 
Steenkerk  on  my  mind.  Then,  at  Courtenay's  sugges- 
tion, we  ate  a  good  solid  breakfast. 

"  A  general  always  likes  to  feed  his  soldiers  well  be- 
fore going  into  battle,"  said  Courtenay,  "  and  Mercer  and 
I  will  do  that  much  for  you.  We  can't  afford  to  let  this 
wisp  of  a  fop  beat  you." 

Then  we  went  out  for  a  short  stroll  through  the  town 
before  going  over  to  the  meeting  place,  Courtenay  carry- 
ing a  long  black  bag  under  his  arm.  But  with  such  a 
serious  business  on  our  hands  we  soon  tired  of  sightseeing, 
and,  taking  the  ferry,  crossed  over  to  Brooklyn,  going 
thence  to  the  designated  spot,  a  quiet  open  place  near  the 
sea  and  beyond  the  Narrows.  We  found  no  one  there  to 
meet  us,  and  Courtenay,  looking  at  his  watch,  informed 
us  that  we  were  at  least  three  quarters  of  an  hour  ahead 
of  time.  At  his  suggestion  we  walked  on  a  bit. 

Passing  through  some  trees,  we  saw  two  large  ships 
anchored  near  the  shore.  They  were  war  ships,  for  the 
muzzles  of  guns  in  tiers  looked  at  us.  Over  both  floated 
the  British  flag.  A  small  schooner,  a  trading  vessel 
which  flew  the  American  colors,  was  anchored  between 
them,  and  a  boat  containing  men  in  the  British  uniform 
was  passing  from  her  to  the  smaller  of  the  two  war  ships. 
138 


AT  THE  DUELLING  GROUND.  139 

"What  ships  are  those?"  asked  Mercer  of  a  farmer 
who  was  leaning  against  a  tree  looking  at  the  frigates. 

"  Don't  you  know  ?  "  he  replied.  "  I  thought  every- 
body knew  those  two  ships." 

"  We  are  strangers  here,"  said  Mercer. 

"The  ship  farthest  out,"  said  the  farmer,  "is  the 
British  fifty-gun  frigate  Leander,  and  the  other  is  the 
British  thirty-eight-gun  frigate  Guerriere.  They  are 
here  to  find  out  where  all  American  vessels  are  going, 
or  from  what  place  they  come,  and  also  they  search  them 
to  take  out  of  them  any  sailors  who  may  be  of  British 
birth,  and  at  the  same  time  any  American  sailors  that 
they  want.  I've  seen  them  with  as  many  as  half  a  dozen 
of  our  ships  at  once  halted  under  their  guns  to  be 
searched.  See,  they've  been  going  through  that  schooner 
now,  and  I  guess  they've  taken  a  man  out  of  her,  for 
there's  one  in  the  boat  that  has  no  uniform  on." 

They  ascended  the  deck  of  the  Guerriere,  and  we 
could  see  plainly  that  the  man  who  wore  no  uniform  was 
a  prisoner,  probably  an  American,  for  the  New  England 
men  were  fine  sailors,  better  than  the  English,  and  the 
British  captains  took  them  wherever  they  could. 

We  had  been  hearing  for  years  of  these  things,  but 
we  never  thought  we  should  witness  such  an  immeasur- 
able disgrace.  History  tells  us  that  there  were  thousands 
of  such  instances,  and  here  were  the  frigates  on  watch 
at  the  entrance  to  our  most  important  port,  as  they  had 
been  for  months  and  years,  searching  our  ships  and  car- 
rying off  our  men  with  perfect  impunity,  almost  in  sight 
of  the  city  of  New  York,  and  that  too  with  all  the  cir- 
cumstances of  arrogance  and  insult.  Can  you  wonder 
that  so  many  of  us  hated  the  English  then? 

I  noticed  the  Guerriere  carefully.  Of  all  the  English 
ships  on  our  coast  this  had  won  the  most  evil  fame,  and 
was  the  best  hated.  She  was  the  most  active  in  over- 
hauling our  vessels  and  in  kidnapping  our  sailors,  and  it 
was  her  captain  who  would  enter  the  name  of  his  ship  as 


140  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

a  kind  of  defiance  upon  the  log  books  of  the  vessels 
which  she  had  searched;  and  it  was  the  same  Guer- 
riere  that  caused  her  name  to  be  printed  in  immense 
letters  extending  the  full  length  of  her  fore-topsail, 
that  the  American  captains  might  see  it  from  afar  and 
tremble. 

So  it  was  no  wonder  that  I  watched  with  interest  a 
ship  which  not  only  delighted  to  inflict  outrage  upon 
Americans,  but  to  insult  them  also.  She  was  a  fine  frig- 
ate, that  the  English  had  taken  from  the  French  and 
fitted  up  in  perfect  style.  Her  prow,  of  white  and  gold, 
was  turned  slightly  toward  us,  and  her  carved  figurehead 
rose  and  fell  with  the  gentle  lap  of  the  water. 

"  And  that's  the  Guerriere?  "  I  said  to  the  farmer. 

"That's  the  Guerriere/'  he  replied,  "and  her  men 
have  boasted  a  thousand  times  in  that  city  over  there 
that  they  can  sink  any  American  ship  that  floats." 

I  will  confess  that  I  was  afraid  the  boast  was  true. 
You  must  understand  the  reputation  that  the  English 
navy  then  held  throughout  the  world.  In  all  the  naval 
wars  and  innumerable  sea  combats  with  France,  Spain, 
Denmark,  and  Holland,  since  the  middle  of  the  preceding 
century,  she  had  been  uniformly  victorious.  In  scores 
of  sea  fights  with  these  antagonists,  ship  for  ship,  she 
had  lost  but  five  or  six  frigates,  and  she  had  captured 
enough  from  them  or  sunk  enough  of  theirs  to  make  a 
huge  navy.  She  had  destroyed  the  fleet  of  Napoleon  in 
Aboukir  Bay,  and  again  had  crushed  the  combined  fleets 
of  France  and  Spain  at  Trafalgar — an  event  that  was 
still  fresh  in  the  memory  of  us  all.  A  British  thirty- 
eight-gun  frigate  was  always  good  enough  for  a  French 
fifty,  and  never  hesitated  to  attack  a  Spaniard  of  twice 
her  size,  and  would  whip  her  too.  All  of  us  remembered 
Nelson's  reply  to  the  Spanish  admiral  who,  captured  by 
him,  asked  him  to  say  in  his  report  that  he  had  fought 
well.  "  Yes,"  replied  the  great  English  sea  fighter,  "  you 
fought  very  well  for  a  Spaniard."  Now  the  English 


AT  THE  DUELLING  GROUND. 

swept  the  sea  with  a  thousand  ships  of  war,  and  were 
mistress  of  it  everywhere.  They  felt  their  victories  and 
their  pride  too,  and  never  hesitated  to  show  it.  Only 
the  officers  and  sailors  of  our  own  little  navy,  twenty 
ships  all  told,  the  biggest  a  forty-four,  maintained  that 
they  could  meet  the  British  and  beat  them  too,  ship  for 
ship,  gun  for  gun,  and  man  for  man.  But  we  landsmen, 
Americans  even,  did  not  believe  them.  Such  was  then 
the  glory  of  the  British  navy,  and  the  fear  that  it  in- 
spired, allied  as  courage  and  superior  skill  seemed  to  be 
with  overwhelming  members. 

The  kidnapped  sailor  was  taken  upon  the  deck  of  the 
Guerriere,  and  what  became  of  him  I  know  not.  The 
little  schooner  turned  her  sails  to  the  wind,  and,  her  prow 
cutting  the  blue  water,  passed  out  to  sea.  It  was  a  bright 
spring  morning  in  a  time  of  peace,  official  peace,  and  his 
Majesty's  Government  of  Great  Britain  was  continually 
extending  its  good  wishes  to  the  United  States  of  Amer- 
ica, and  trusting  that  the  republic  would  not  yield  to  the 
evil  influence  of  the  despot  and  tyrant,  Bonaparte;  mean- 
while a  British  fleet  kept  incessant  watch  at  the  entrance 
of  every  American  port,  and  exercised  all  the  power  and 
arrogance  of  an  overwhelming  victor  in  war  with  its  Eu- 
ropean neighbours. 

The  two  ships  swung  placidly  in  the  water.  Their 
spars  and  masts,  tapering  and  symmetrical  in  their  out- 
lines, formed  a  black  tracery  against  the  sky.  The  bright 
uniforms  of  British  officers  could  be  seen  upon  the  decks, 
and  we  were  near  enough  to  hear  now  and  then  a  word 
of  command  from  the  officers. 

"  It's  the  money  lovers  of  these  Eastern  cities  who 
make  us  stand  this,"  said  Mercer.  "  I'd  fight  first  if 
every  city  we  had  should  be  burned  to  the  ground." 

"  Come  away,"  said  Courtenay,  "  I  don't  want  to  see 
it  any  longer. 

We  walked  back  toward  the  spot  at  which  we  were 
to  meet  Mr.  Van  Steenkerk  and  his  companions,  and  saw 


A  HEEALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

them  approaching,  all  dressed  in  the  extreme  fashion  of 
the  day  and  looking  fresh  and  natty. 

"  Good  morning,"  said  Mr.  Van  Steenkerk  very  po- 
litely. "  Have  you  been  taking  a  view  of  the  sea?  " 

"  We  have  been  watching  your  beloved  British,  who 
are  engaged  in  the  lawful  and  peaceful  occupation  of 
blockading  this  port,"  said  Courtenay. 

Van  Steenkerk  did  not  reply;  I  fancy  that  even  he 
could  not  defend  the  scene  that  we  had  witnessed.  I  no- 
ticed that  Knowlton  also  carried  a  black  bag  under  his 
arm,  though  it  was  smaller  than  Courtenay's. 

"  Well,  gentlemen,  we  are  assembled  for  serious  busi- 
ness," said  Knowlton. 

"  Certainly,"  said  Courtenay,  "  and  since  we  are  here 
in  this  quiet  spot,  I  propose  that  we  not  only  settle 
the  preliminaries,  but  have  the  duel  also  this  morn- 
ing." 

"  That  suits  us  exactly,"  said  Knowlton.  "  There  is 
no  reason  whatever  for  delay." 

"  Are  you  agreed,  Mr.  Ten  Broeck? "  asked  Cour- 
tenay. 

"  Yes." 

"And  you,  Mr.  Van  Steenkerk?"  asked  Knowlton. 

"  Yes." 

I  retracted  some  of  my  bad  opinion  of  the  little  man. 
He  certainly  seemed  to  be  no  coward. 

"  Then  there  is  nothing  to  do,"  said  Courtenay,  "  but 
to  produce  the  weapons  and  fight.  Of  course,  we  being 
the  challenged  have  the  choice  of  weapons." 

"  Of  course,  of  course,"  said  Knowlton;  "  but  think- 
ing that  we  might  settle  the  whole  affair  while  we  were 
here,  and  that  you  would  not  be  provided,  I  brought  the 
weapons  along  with  me,  and  very  good  ones  they  are 
too." 

He  opened  his  black  bag  and  produced  two  extremely 
handsome  small  swords,  exactly  alike. 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Courtenay;    "we  do  not  choose 


AT  THE  DUELLING  GROUND.  143 

swords,  since  our  man  has  never  used  one.  We  choose 
better  weapons;  we  choose  these." 

He  opened  his  own  black  bag  and  took  out  two  heavy, 
long-barrelled  rifles,  such  as  we  use  in  the  West  for  bear 
or  buffalo  shooting  and  Indian  fighting. 

"Why,  what  do  you  mean  by  those?"  exclaimed 
Knowlton. 

"  I  mean  that  your  Mr.  Van  Steenkerk  and  our  Mr. 
Ten  Broeck  are  to  fight  with  these  at  ten  paces,"  replied 
Courtenay,  as  if  surprised. 

"  But  one  of  our  principals  or  both  will  get  killed," 
protested  Knowlton. 

"  We  have  an  idea  in  the  West  and  South  that  when 
two  men  fight  a  duel  it  is  because  they  want  to  kill  each 
other,  therefore  we  give  them  a  chance  to  do  it,"  replied 
Courtenay. 

Knowlton  looked  irresolute.  Van  Steenkerk  had 
turned  slightly  pale,  and  was  looking  at  the  rifles,  which 
were  lying  side  by  side  on  the  grass.  They  were  certain- 
ly weapons  of  a  formidable  appearance,  heavy  of  stock, 
with  a  long,  slender  blue  barrel,  from  which  a  half -ounce 
ball  went  unerringly  to  the  chosen  mark. 

"  At  ten  paces,"  said  Knowlton  in  a  hesitating  tone. 
"  Why,  we  might  as  well  begin  digging  the  graves  for 
both  men.  It's  murder." 

"  You  don?t  like  ten  paces  ?  "  said  Courtenay. 

"  No." 

"  Then  make  it  five." 

Knowlton  whispered  for  a  moment  with  one  of  his 
comrades. 

"  Such  conditions  are  monstrous,  barbaric,"  he  said. 
"  You  can  not  insist  upon  them." 

"  But  we  do,"  replied  Courtenay. 

The  report  of  a  musket  shot  came  from  the  sea,  its 
sound  doubled  in  the  clear,  calm  morning. 

"  Is  some  one  fighting  before  us?  "  exclaimed  Mercer. 

"  No,  that  came  from  the  boats,"  said  Knowlton. 


144  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

It  was  but  a  step  through  the  trees,  and  all  of  us  took 
it,  eager  to  see  the  cause  of  the  shot. 

"  Look,"  said  Courtenay,  who  was  first.  "  That  shot 
came  from  the  Guerriere." 

A  marine  standing  on  the  deck  of  the  Guerriere 
was  holding  a  gun  in  his  hand,  and  looking  intently  at 
the  surface  of  the  water.  A  wisp  of  smoke  rising  from 
the  muzzle  of  his  musket  floated  upward  and  lost  itself 
in  the  spars  and  riggings  of  the  ship. 

"  What  is  that  on  the  water?  "  asked  Van  Steenkerk. 

"  A  man's  head,"  replied  Courtenay. 

A  man  was  swimming  from  the  ship  toward  the 
shore,  all  but  his  head  submerged.  A  bloody  streak 
across  the  side  of  the  head  showed  where  the  musket  ball 
had  passed.  Even  at  the  distance  the  face  expressed 
agony,  wildness,  hope. 

"  A  deserter!  "  exclaimed  Mercer. 

A  second  marine  appeared  on  the  deck  of  the  Guer- 
riere, and  raising  his  musket  fired  at  the  swimming  head. 
The  bullet  struck  the  surface  of  the  sea  within  six 
inches  of  the  head,  dashing  water  over  it,  and  then  skip- 
ping like  a  pebble  reached  the  land  and  battered 
itself  against  a  rock  not  twenty  feet  from  us.  The  man 
swam  on.  I  felt  a  curious  sickening  sensation.  I  had 
never  before  seen  a  human  head  used  as  a  target  for 
bullets. 

"  Pretty  poor  marksmanship,"  said  Courtenay,  "  and 
it's  none  of  my  business,  but  I  hope  the  poor  devil  will 
escape." 

Several  more  shots  were  fired  from  the  Guerriere  at 
the  swimmer,  but  none  touched  him.  Once  he  turned 
his  head  slightly  to  look  back,  and  then  seemed  to  swim 
with  increased  effort.  I  could  see  his  face  distinctly,  and 
despair  showed  there.  There  was  foam  on  his  lips. 

"  That  man  must  have  good  reason  for  seeking  to  es- 
cape," I  said. 

A  boat  was  swung  from  the  side  of  the  Guerriere,  and 


AT  THE  DUELLING  GROUND.       145 

oarsmen  and  marines  leaped  into  it.  A  young  officer  in 
bright  uniform  took  command.  Under  the  strong  arms 
of  the  rowers,  the  boat  sped  over  the  water  toward  the 
weakening  swimmer. 

The  fugitive  was  splashing  water,  as  his  strokes  grew 
wilder.  I  felt  the  fear  of  death  for  him,  but  the  men  in 
the  boat  did  not  fire,  as  they  seemed  to  be  sure  now  of 
taking  the  swimmer  alive. 

"  I  never  saw  that  man  before,"  said  Courtenay,  "  but 
I'd  be  willing  to  help  him  escape  if  I  could." 

The  fugitive  reached  shallow  water  and  ran  ashore. 
Not  far  away  stretched  the  woods,  tempting  shelter  to 
a  hunted  man.  But  he  did  not  go  there.  Instead,  he 
ran  to  us. 

"  Save  me,  friends;  for  the  love  of  God,  save  me  from 
that  ship!  "  he  cried. 

He  was  a  young  man  of  good  natural  frame,  but 
wasted.  His  clothes  seemed  to  hang  upon  bones  only.  I 
had  never  before  heard  a  man  beg  for  mercy,  and  the 
thrill  was  painful. 

"  We  can  do  nothing  for  a  British  deserter,"  I  said, 
"  but  run  for  the  woods,  and  maybe  you  can  escape." 

"I  can  go  no  farther,"  he  said;  "my  strength  is 
gone.  I  am  not  an  Englishman,  but  an  American  like 
you.  Help  me!  Will  you  let  me  be  taken  back  to  that 
ship  and  the  torture  of  the  cat?" 

His  face  was  full  of  appeal. 

"  He  speaks  the  truth,"  cried  Courtenay;  "  this  man 
is  no  Englishman,  but  an  American — one  of  us.  Listen 
how  he  drops  his  r*s  and  softens  his  vowels.  No  Eng- 
lishman ever  spoke  with  that  accent.  It  belongs  to  us 
Southerners.  What  are  you,  man  ?" 

"A  Marylander,"  replied  the  seaman.  "I  was  im- 
pressed from  the  Sally  Jones  more  than  seven  years  ago." 

Then  he  begged  us  again  to  help  him.  He  looked 
at  us  with  increasing  appeal  in  his  eyes,  and  his  face 
was  that  of  one  who  had  suffered. 


146  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

Courtenay  was  excited — much  excited.  All  his  hot 
South  Carolina  blood  flamed  up. 

"  Comrades,"  he  cried,  "  we  would  be  disgraced  for- 
ever if  we  let  them  take  this  man  back.  Will  you  not 
help  me  to  defend  him?  " 

"  I  will,  for  one,"  I  said,  unable  to  resist  such  an  ap- 
peal, "  but  we  are  not  properly  armed." 

"  You  forget  the  rifles,"  said  Courtenay. 

They  were  still  lying  on  the  ground  side  by  side,  and 
he  snatched  them  up,  handing  one  to  me  and  keeping 
the  other  himself.  The  men  in  the  boat  were  landing. 
I  heard  footsteps  beside  me,  and  a  voice  said: 

"  Please  consider  me  your  friend  and  ally  in  this." 

I  looked  around  and  saw  that  little  woman-man,  that 
little  whipper-snapper,  Van  Steenkerk,  by  my  side.  He 
held  one  of  the  rapiers  in  his  hand,  ready  for  a  thrust. 
He  looked  ridiculous  with  his  puny  figure  in  his  ex- 
aggerated clothes,  but  I  recognised  the  brave  man  never- 
theless. 

Knowlton  held  the  other  sword,  and  Mercer  had 
drawn  a  pistol  from  somewhere  in  the  interior  of  his 
coat.  The  man  stood  behind  us,  panting  alike  with  ex- 
haustion and  excitement. 

Six  men,  a  lieutenant  at  their  head,  landed  from  the 
boat  and  advanced  toward  us,  arms  in  their  hands.  I 
noticed  the  lieutenant  closely.  He  was  a  young  man, 
almost  as  young  as  myself.  They  approached  us,  and 
stopped  in  stiff,  military  fashion  at  ten  feet. 

"  We  wish  to  take  that  man  behind  you,"  said  the 
lieutenant;  "  he  is  a  deserter  from  his  Majesty's  ship 
Guerriere,  which  you  see  there." 

I  suppose  that  he  spoke  to  me,  because  I  was  the  big- 
gest. He  looked  suspiciously  at  us.  There  was  enough 
to  arouse  his  suspicions,  as  at  least  five  of  us  showed 
arms. 

"  I  do  not  see  what  claim  you  can  have  upon  an 
American  sailor,"  I  said. 


AT  THE  DUELLING  GROUND.  14.7 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"  This  man  is  an  American  sailor,  impressed  by  your 
countrymen  more  than  seven  years  ago." 

"  I  know  nothing  of  that,"  he  replied  with  a  shrug 
of  his  shoulders.  "  I  have  been  on  the  Guerriere  but  a 
year,  and  I  found  him  there  when  I  came.  He  is  rated 
as  a  British  seaman.  He  must  go  back  with  us." 

The  sailor  said  not  a  word,  as  if  his  tale  once  told, 
he  trusted  implicitly  in  its  effect  upon  us. 

"  This  man  is  an  American,  born  and  bred;  I  know 
it;  I  know  his  father,"  I  said. 

An  idea  had  seized  me.  He  had  told  us  that  he  used 
to  live  on  the  Baltimore  road,  and  I  suddenly  remem- 
bered the  tale  of  the  old  blacksmith. 

"  Is  not  your  name  Patterson  ?  "  I  asked  of  the  man 
behind  us. 

"  Yes,  Patterson— Henry  Patterson." 

"  Does  not  your  father  live  on  the  Baltimore  road?  " 

"  Yes,  he  is  a  blacksmith  there;  he  was  seven  years 
ago." 

"  You  hear,"  I  said  to  the  lieutenant.  "  This  man 
is  an  American.  I  know  it." 

"  I  care  nothing  about  that,"  he  said;  "  such  things 
are  for  the  captain  of  the  Guerriere  or  the  Admiralty. 
At  any  rate,  this  man  is  a  liar." 

"  He  is  not  a  liar,"  I  said;  "  he  tells  the  truth,  and 
I  know  it." 

"  It  is  the  truth,  the  gospel  truth,"  said  the  sailor. 

"  Come,"  said  the  lieutenant,  "  I  have  no  time  to 
waste  here  in  debate.  I  must  carry  this  deserter  back 
to  our  ship." 

"  You  shall  not  do  it,  sir,"  cried  Mr.  Van  Steenkerk, 
jumping  about  like  a  turkey  cock  and  flourishing  his 
little  sword  in  a  manner  that  was  dangerous  to  me,  his 
nearest  neighbour.  "  Damn  me,  if  you  shall  do  it,  sir. 
Listen  to  me:  I  love  England,  and  I  have  long  wanted 
to  be  an  Englishman  until  this  day,  but  I  don't  want  to 


14:8  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

be  one  now.  I  came  here  to  fight  this  gentleman  on  my 
left,  but  I  will  take  great  pleasure  in  fighting  you  in- 
stead. Draw  your  sword." 

I  made  a  vow  that  very  moment  to  ask  the  little 
dandy  his  pardon  for  anything  offensive  that  I  had  ever 
said  to  him,  be  the  greater  fault  mine  or  his. 

"  I  have  six  men  armed,"  said  the  lieutenant,  "  and 
I  say  this  deserting  British  sailor  shall  go  with  us." 

"  I  have  seven  men,  at  least  five  of  whom  are  armed," 
I  said,  "  and  this  American  sailor  shall  not  go  with  you. 
He  is  on  his  own  soil,  and  here  he  shall  stay." 

The  lieutenant  looked  at  me,  and  I  looked  at  him. 
I  could  see  that  he  was  at  a  loss.  Had  we  been  on  the 
deck  of  the  Guerriere  the  advantage  would  have  been 
his,  but  now,  on  our  own  ground,  it  was  ours. 

"  We  do  not  wish  bloodshed,"  said  the  lieutenant. 

"Neither  do  we,"  said  I.  Then  I  added:  "We  shall 
certainly  resist  with  arms  any  attempt  to  take  this  man." 

There  was  no  doubt  about  our  attitude,  and  the  look 
of  irresolution  appeared  again  upon  his  face. 

"I  shall  complain  to  your  Government  about  this," 
he  said. 

It  was  an  acknowledgment  of  defeat. 

"  Do  so,"  I  said.  I  knew  what  complaints  to  govern- 
ments amounted  to  in  those  days. 

He  looked  at  his  ship.  They  seemed  to  be  making 
some  kind  of  a  signal  there. 

"  Your  name,  please?  "  he  said  to  me. 

"  It  is  wholly  unnecessary." 

He  paused  again,  then  he  added: 

"  But  we  shall  have  him  back  again." 

"  Good-bye." 

He  marched  his  men  to  the  boat,  and  they  rowed  to- 
ward the  ship.  The  sailor  began  to  thank  us  so  profusely 
that  we  stopped  him. 

"  Come,"  I  said,  "  I  think  you'll  be  a  safer  man  out 
of  sight  of  that  ship." 


AT  THE  DUELLING  GROUND.  149 

We  walked  swiftly,  not  stopping  until  we  were  deep 
in  the  thick  woods  behind  the  little  town  of  Brooklyn, 
and  the  spars  and  masts  of  the  Guerriere  and  her  consort 
were  far  out  of  sight.  We  took  the  rescued  sailor  with 
us,  Courtenay  holding  him  by  the  arm,  while  Van  Steen- 
kerk,  still  brandishing  his  sword,  went  on  before.  But 
when  we  stopped  and  Courtenay  released  his  hold,  the 
man  sank  down  in  a  lump  upon  the  ground,  overpowered 
by  his  efforts. 

"  Give  him  some  of  this,"  said  Van  Steenkerk;  "  I 
thought  that  I  might  need  it  myself,  and  it  is  timely." 

He  handed  out  a  small  flask,  and  Courtenay  poured 
some  of  the  strong  liquor  into  his  mouth.  He  gasped  and 
gurgled,  and  a  little  colour  appeared  in  his  face. 

Van  Steenkerk  poured  another  gulp  of  the  hot  stuff 
down  his  throat,  and  the  man  revived  and  sat  up. 

His  strength  steadily  increased,  and  his  spirit  with 
it.  His  rescue  seemed  to  create  him  anew.  By  and  by 
he  told  us  of  himself,  how  he  had  been  taken  out  of  the 
schooner  by  a  ship  of  the  line,  and  they  only  laughed 
at  him  when  he  said  he  was  not  an  Englishman.  They 
didn't  care  whether  he  was  or  not,  and  anyhow  he  was 
rated  as  an  able-bodied  English  seaman  on  board  that 
ship  of  the  line.  When  he  refused  to  serve  they  used 
the  cat,  and  then  they  used  the  cat  again.  On  the  same 
ship  he  had  fought  in  the  great  battle  of  Trafalgar,  and 
he  did  not  mind  it  so  much  then,  in  the  fury  and  blaze  of 
the  conflict,  but  when  he  was  doing  guard  duty  in  the 
German  Ocean  and  the  North  Sea  he  tried  to  escape,  and 
was  caught,  and  given  to  the  lash  again.  A  second  time 
he  sought  to  get  away,  and  found  only  the  cat.  He  was 
passed  from  one  ship  to  another  and  was  flogged  in  each, 
until  he  lost  the  spirit  of  a  man,  and  was  willing  to  be 
anything  that  they  said.  But  when  he  was  sent  on  to  the 
Guerriere  and  she  came  to  the  American  station,  he  took 
the  first  chance  to  escape,  desperate  though  it  was.  Such 
was  his  story,  and  many  another  man  had  the  like  to  tell. 


150  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

"  We  don't  know  what  will  be  said  about  this,"  said 
Courtenay.  "  We  must  smuggle  him  into  town  some- 
where, and  then  to  his  home.  After  that  the  American 
and  British  Governments  can  settle  it  between  them,  if 
any  question  is  raised." 

Van  Steenkerk  had  put  up  his  sword,  and  was  stand- 
ing near.  I  went  up  to  him. 

"  Mr.  Van  Steenkerk,"  I  said,  "  you  and  I  came  out 
here  to  fight  a  duel." 

"Is  that  so?  I  have  no  recollection  of  it,"  he  re- 
plied. 

"  I'm  afraid  it's  true,"  I  said. 

"Then  if  you  insist  upon  it,  it  is  true,  and  the  duel  has 
been  fought,"  he  replied  with  a  faint  gleam  in  his  eye. 

"Which  of  us  is  dead?"  I  asked. 

"  That  is  the  question,"  he  replied. 

"  Mr.  Van  Steenkerk,"  I  said,  "  I  was  mistaken  in 
you;  you  are  a  brave  and  true  man." 

"  If  I  have  said  anything  that  was  offensive  to  you, 
Mr.  Ten  Broeck,  I  take  it  back  and  apologize." 

"  Then  let  us  shake  hands  and  be  friends." 

We  shook  hands  with  the  best  good  will.  Yet  I  was 
careful  about  my  grip,  my  hand  was  so  much  larger  and 
stronger  than  his. 

"  But  I'm  afraid  I've  disgraced  myself  by  taking  this 
man's  part,"  he  said  ruefully. 

"  You  obeyed  your  best  impulse,  that  was  what  you 
did,"  said  Mercer,  who  heard  him.  It  had  been  a  long 
time  since  I  had  seen  this  dry  Tennesseean  so  moved. 

Then  we  went  back  to  the  city,  taking  the  rescued 
sailor  with  us.  We  concealed  him  that  night,  and  Van 
Steenkerk  put  him  on  the  road  home  the  next  morning. 

"I  think  we  came  out  of  that  double  affair  very 
well,"  said  Gourtenay  that  night. 

"  I  think  so  too,"  I  said;  "  but  I'm  glad  the  duel  with 
those  rifles  at  ten  paces  didn't  come  off." 

"  I  never  thought  it  would,"  he  replied. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

AN   ABRIVAL   FROM   THE   SOUTH. 

THE  next  morning  Courtenay  and  I  made  our  finest 
toilets  and  proposed  to  take  a  saunter  about  the  Battery, 
where  we  might  breathe  the  fresh  salt  air  and  see  whom- 
soever might  come  in  our  way.  Mercer  declined  to  go 
with  us,  saying  that  he  had  business  to  which  he  must 
attend  at  once,  and  promised  to  meet  us  at  the  tavern 
when  we  returned  at  noon  for  dinner. 

Though  it  was  not  precisely  the  time  of  day  for  the 
fashion  of  New  York,  there  were  some  people  of  conse- 
quence, nevertheless,  strolling  about  the  fine  little  park 
that  they  call  the  Battery,  though  I  understand  now  that 
the  fashionable  portion  of  New  York  is  moving  farther 
uptown  toward  Canal  Street. 

We  were  delighted  to  meet  Van  Steenkerk  among 
those  who  were  parading.  He  was  dressed,  if  such  a 
thing  were  possible,  more  gorgeously  than  ever,  and  we 
felt  somewhat  overpowered  in  his  company.  But  he 
really  knew  people,  and  introduced  us  to  several  of  con- 
sequence. We  met  the  famous  Dr.  David  Hosack,  a 
fine-looking  man  of  thirty-five,  Colonel  Nicholas  Fish, 
a  candidate  for  lieutenant  governor  against  De  Witt  Clin- 
ton, and  then  the  greatest  of  them  all,  the  renowned  Mr. 
Washington  Irving,  whose  history  of  New  York  I  have 
read  five  times  with  the  greatest  delight.  He  had  a  fine 
face,  was  dressed  in  good  style,  wearing  a  heavy  overcoat 
with  a  great  fur  collar  over  his  other  clothing,  the  morn- 
ing being  cool.  He  talked  to  us  several  minutes,  and 

151 


152  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

asked  us  numerous  questions  about  Kentucky  and  Ten- 
nessee, which  he  said  he  intended  to  visit  some  day. 

When  we  returned  to  the  tavern  we  found  Mercer 
there,  as  he  had  promised  he  would  be. 

"  You  can't  guess  who  has  come,  Phil,"  he  said. 

"  I  shall  not  try,  for  I  have  not  the  slightest  idea." 

"  Cyrus  Pendleton  and  his  daughter  and  a  young 
gentleman  whom  you  know." 

"  Bidwell,  of  course." 

"Yes,  Bidwell,  of  course,"  he  laughed,  though  the 
laugh  did  not  seem  wholly  real  to  me.  Then  he  added 
that  they  were  at  our  tavern  and  we  should  see  them  at 
dinner.  I  was  not  surprised,  as  Cyrus  Pendleton  trav- 
elled often  and  far  on  business,  and  I  was  not  astonished 
either  that  Bidwell  should  be  in  their  train,  as  he  seemed 
to  have  nothing  to  do  nowadays  but  to  follow  them 
wherever  they  might  go. 

This  was  a  great  and  pleasant  event  to  me,  as  I  had 
not  believed  that  I  would  see  Marian  Pendleton  again  in 
many  days,  and  my  heart  began  to  beat  a  more  lively 
tune  than  its  wont. 

Cyrus  Pendleton  received  me  in  his  usual  constrained 
manner,  Bidwell  shook  my  hand  in  a  way  that  he  would 
make  supercilious,  but  I  could  see  shining  in  Marian's 
eyes  a  warmth  of  welcome  that  atoned  for  all  coldness 
in  others.  They  had  arrived  late  the  night  before,  after 
an  easy  journey,  and  Cyrus  Pendleton  and  his  daughter 
were  fresh  and  ready — the  father  for  his  business  and 
the  daughter  to  see  the  great  town  of  New  York.  Mr. 
Pendleton  turned  his  talk  at  once  to  war,  and  he  was 
as  hot  as  ever  for  it.  I  saw  that  he  would  be  considered 
a  firebrand  by  the  merchants  and  shippers  and  money 
lenders  of  New  York,  who  were  almost  solidly  opposed 
to  a  conflict  with  either  Great  Britain  or  France,  pre- 
ferring that  the  nation  should  endure  any  sort  of  dis- 
grace and  any  amount  of  suffering,  as  long  as  it  was  con- 
fined to  obscure  individuals,  sailors,  and  such,  rather 


AN  ARRIVAL  FROM  THE  SOUTH.  153 

than  suffer  a  diminution  of  their  profits  or  a  loss  of  the 
wealth  they  had  gained  already.  But  the  tone  of  the 
fur  trader's  talk  pleased  us  all,  myself  included,  despite 
my  knowledge  of  the  Government's  difficulties,  and  none 
had.  any  desire  to  interfere  with  it.  Seizing  the  oppor- 
tunity, I  asked  Marian  to  take  a  ride  with  me  that  after- 
noon, and  let  me  show  her  a  little  of  New  York,  to  which 
proposition  she  consented  with  alacrity,  though  there 
was  a  frown  on  her  father's  face. 

"  I  had  fancied  that  I  would  have  the  pleasure  of  in- 
troducing New  York  to  Miss  Pendleton,"  said  Bidwell, 
a  little  irritation  showing  in  his  tone.  But  his  annoy- 
ance was  of  no  profit  to  him,  since  I  was  very  far  from 
asking  him  to  go  with  us. 

I  hired  two  good  horses  and  Marian  and  I  rode  north- 
ward. In  truth,  one  can  ride  in  no  other  direction  in 
New  York,  unless  he  wishes  to  ride  into  the  sea,  the 
island  is  so  narrow  and  peculiar  in  shape.  Marian  was 
a  fine  horsewoman,  as  is  every  one  in  Kentucky,  alike 
from  choice  and  necessity.  We  had  a  crisp,  fresh  after- 
noon for  our  ride,  the  sunshine  being  hright  and  the  day 
having  turned  somewhat  warmer,  removing  the  need  of 
wraps. 

As  we  rode  northward,  I  called  to  her  notice  the 
signs  of  great  activity  prevailing  everywhere,  the  vast 
amount  of  excavation  and  building  going  on,  and  the 
rapid  growth  of  the  place.  It  is  a  fact  that  1811  was  a 
very  notable  year  for  building  in  New  York,  the  people 
realizing  that  theirs  was  destined  to  be  the  greatest  city 
in  America,  and  being  incited  to  extensive  effort  by  it. 
We  were  well  beyond  Canal  Street  before  we  ceased  to 
hear  the  incessant  scrape  and  shriek  of  the  saw,  the  beat 
of  the  hammer,  and  the  sharp  ring  of  the  mason's  trowel. 
On  all  sides  of  us  we  saw  men  cutting  down  hills  and 
filling  up  marshes,  that  both  might  be  sites  for  houses,  as 
if  they  were  bound  to  build  a  new  Babylon  before  the 
year  was  out.  But  I  was  glad  when  we  passed  all  this 
11 


154:  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

and  entered  the  domain  of  grass  and  trees  and  country 
houses,  some  portions  of  the  island  seeming  almost  as 
wild  as  the  hills  of  our  own  Kentucky.  It  was  a  perfect 
afternoon,  a  soft  breeze  which  told  of  the  northward 
march  of  spring  blowing  from  the  southwest  upon  us. 
Through  the  trees,  for  we  kept  to  the  western  side  of 
the  island,  we  could  see  the  silver-gray  Hudson,  its  sur- 
face crinkling  up  like  melted  glass  under  the  gentle 
breeze,  and  now  and  then  showing  faint  tints  of  purple 
and  green  and  blue  and  red.  The  masts  and  spars  of  the 
ships  in  the  river  were  wonderfully  near  and  distinct  in 
the  clear  air,  and,  farther  on,  the  Palisades  stretched 
their  mighty  bastion  of  rock  mile  after  mile,  the  sun- 
light seeking  the  crannies  and  touching  the  foliage  which 
clung  to  their  sides  with  its  gleam  of  gold. 

My  mind  had  been  filled  for  so  many  days  with 
thoughts  of  war  and  danger,  rescue  and  revenge,  that  the 
sudden  peace,  the  calmness  and  beauty  of  Nature  and 
the  presence  of  a  fair  woman  acted  upon  me  like  some 
powerful  potion  and  gave  me  visions  of  another  and 
softer  kind.  Under  their  influence  I  was  quiet  for  a 
while,  and  Marian,  too,  seemed  to  have  no  wish  to  talk. 
But  I  took  enough  glances  to  see  that  the  spring  roses 
were  blooming  brightly  in  her  cheeks.  Her  eyes  were 
turned  usually  toward  the  river  and  the  hills  and  the 
Palisades  beyond,  and  they  sparkled  with  the  light  of 
youth  and  beauty,  strength  and  happiness.  She  and  I 
were  merely  like  the  rest  of  Nature,  feeling  the  reawak- 
ening of  the  earth  after  the  winter  cold  and  snow. 

"  It  is  very  beautiful  here,"  she  said. 

"  Our  own  Kentucky  is  beautiful,  too,"  I  replied, 
"  but  this  is  different.  That  huge  rock  wall  yonder  does 
not  remind  me  much  of  our  gently  rolling  blue  grass." 

"  But  I  suppose  that  they  are  doing  the  same  there 
that  they  are  doing  here,"  she  said,  "  talking  and  think- 
ing of  nothing  but  war  and  its  chances." 

"  They  are  probably  talking  much  more  in  favour  of 


AN  ARRIVAL  FROM  THE  SOUTH.  155 

it  there  than  they  are  here,"  I  said.  Then  I  proceeded 
to  urge  with  great  warmth  the  necessity  of  preparing  for 
war,  and  drew  comparisons  between  the  spirit  of  the 
Kentuckians  and  the  New  Yorkers,  not  at  all  in  favour 
of  the  latter.  Perhaps  I  was  a  little  unjust  to  the  New 
Yorkers,  for  Kentucky  would  not  be  exposed  to  invasion 
unless  in  case  of  overwhelming  defeat,  while  New  York 
would  be  in  danger  at  the  outset.  Nevertheless,  I  argued 
that  every  consideration  of  honour  and  safety  alike  de- 
manded that  we  fight,  an  opinion  which  I  yet  hold. 

"  Do  you  still  intend  to  go  to  the  war,  if  we  have 
one?"  she  asked. 

"  Would  you  think  better  of  me  if  I  were  to  go  or  if 
I  were  to  stay  at  home  ?  "  I  asked. 

She  laughed,  a  laugh  that  was  clear  and  gay  in  the 
beginning,  and  soft  and  sad  at  the  end. 

"  The  decision  is  not  in  my  hands,"  she  said. 

I  quoted  in  half -jesting  tones: 

I  could  not  love  thee,  dear,  so  much, 
Loved  I  not  honour  more. 

She  did  not  answer. 

We  rode  on  in  the  growing  spring,  noting  the  tender 
young  grass  springing  up  over  the  dead  blades  of  last 
year,  the  swelling  buds  on  the  trees,  the  deepening  tints 
of  green  in  the  foliage  on  the  far  cliffs,  and  the  faint 
odour  of  spice  and  rose  that  comes  with  the  south  winds 
that  freshen  the  earth  in  spring.  Dark  was  approaching 
when  we  rode  back  into  the  town  and  saw  the  lights 
gleaming  before  us. 

Courtenay,  Mercer,  and  I  called  that  evening  upon 
the  Misses  Constance  and  Fanny  Eastlake,  whom  we  had 
known  well  in  Washington,  and  the  next  morning  all  of 
us  received  invitations  to  a  large  entertainment  two  even- 
ings later  at  the  home  of  John  Haslett,  a  rich  merchant, 
who  had  a  fine  house  on  Canal  Street.  Mr.  Haslett  was 


156  A  HERALD  OP  THE  WEST. 

a  business  and  social  acquaintance  of  Mr.  Pendleton's, 
and  the  reception  was  to  be  in  honour  of  the  Western 
man  and  his  daughter. 

Naturally  all  of  us  looked  forward  to  it  with  antici- 
pation, and  neglected  nothing  that  would  contribute  to 
our  best  appearance  when  the  time  should  come.  We 
three  had  ordered  new  clothes  immediately  upon  our  ar- 
rival in  New  York,  and  to  our  great  joy  they  were  ready 
in  time.  So  when  the  hour  came  to  go  we  were  all  in 
our  best.  I  wore  a  gray  coat  with  a  slight  pearl  tint, 
a  long  waistcoat  of  white  flowered  satin,  and  coloured 
small  clothes.  That  fashion  has  passed  now,  and  even 
then  was  about  to  change,  but  it  had  certain  advantages 
in  favour  of  picturesqueness.  Courtenay  and  Mercer 
were  in  raiment  as  splendid,  and  we  set  off  in  high  spirits 
to  the  Haslett  house,  where  we  found  a  great  company 
assembled. 

In  Louisville  and  Lexington  at  that  time  the  talk 
when  people  met  in  the  evenings  was  sure  to  be  polit- 
ical; in  Washington  also  it  was  political,  with  just  a 
slight  touch  of  literature,  for  little  John  Agg  had  been 
writing  his  bright  verses  of  society  at  the  capital,  and 
there  were  others  with  as  great  pretensions  and  less  skill; 
in  Baltimore  the  talk  of  books  and  such  things  grew 
slightly,  and  the  fashions  became  conspicuous,  although 
politics  still  absorbed  the  greater  share  of  attention.  But 
in  Philadelphia  and  here,  even  under  the  strain  of  ex- 
pected war,  people  talked  readily  of  other  things  than 
politics,  passing  from  one  to  another  of  all  the  many 
great  interests  of  the  world.  I  judged  that  in  New  York, 
in  ordinary  times,  political  subjects  would  receive  scant 
attention,  though  with  us  of  the  West  they  yet  largely 
occupy  men's  minds. 

Nevertheless,  the  expected  war  was  bound  to  have  a 
considerable  show  of  attention,  and  we  soon  discovered 
that  the  sentiment  of  New  York,  at  least  among  the  class 
represented  at  Mr.  Haslett's  house,  was  largely  against  it, 


AN  ARRIVAL  FROM  THE  SOUTH.  157 

for  wealth  loves  to  take  no  risks.  In  such  an  atmosphere 
even  the  red-hot  zeal  of  Cyrus  Pendleton  was  chilled,  and 
he  said  little  on  the  subject.  Many  people  of  distinction, 
politically,  socially,  or  otherwise,  were  present,  and  I  was 
lucky  enough  to  meet  Mr.  Irving  again.  He  talked 
about  the  proposed  war,  bringing  up  the  subject  himself, 
and  while  he  could  not  deny  the  truth  of  my  argument 
that  the  war  would  be  just,  so  far  as  we  were  concerned, 
yet  he  viewed  its  imminence  with  the  greatest  pain,  hav- 
ing more  respect  and  liking  for  the  English  than  I  had. 

He  said  that  the  English  in  their  home  life  in  their 
own  country  had  many  estimable  qualities,  and  Ameri- 
cans, the  majority  of  whom  had  seen  only  their  bad  side, 
would  like  them  better  some  day.  He  showed  much  en- 
thusiasm when  speaking  of  the  beauties  of  the  English 
country  and  of  the  literary  and  artistic  life  of  the  Old 
World,  so  rich  in  its  history  and  memorable  associations. 
He  told  of  the  military  might  and  valour  of  England, 
and  described  his  own  thrilling  experience,  the  sights 
that  he  saw,  and  the  sounds  that  he  heard  when  he  was 
in  a  theatre  one  London  evening  and  the  news  of  the 
great  victory  at  Trafalgar  and  Nelson's  glorious  death 
came  to  the  audience  there. 

I  confessed  that  all  these  things  might  be  true,  but 
since  a  nation  persisted  in  showing  to  us  its  worst  side, 
it  was  that  worst  side  with  which  we  would  have  to  deal. 

A  little  later,  as  I  passed  into  a  second  room,  I  met 
Major  Gilbert  Northcote,  my  cousin,  dressed  with  the 
greatest  care,  and  as  easy  of  manner  as  ever. 

"  You  here?  "  I  exclaimed  in  surprise. 

"  Yes,  I  am  here,"  he  said  in  his  old  ironical  tone; 
"  and  since  we  seem  to  have  business  in  the  same  towns 
and  with  the  same  people  we  should  prepare  for  many 
meetings." 

This  was  true,  and  I  acknowledged  it. 

"I  should  like  to  remind  you  of  another  thing,"  he 
added.  "  In  Washington  I  was  alone,  so  to  speak,  but  if 


158  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

you  will  investigate  you  will  find  that  I  have  more  friends 
present  than  you.  You  will  discover  that  in  this  large 
town,  where  they  are  compelled  to  know  things,  they  are 
not  so  eager  for  war  with  the  greatest  power  in  the  world 
as  they  are  down  in  the  raw  little  village  in  the  woods 
that  you  call  the  capital  of  your  so-called  republic." 

"  It  may  be  so,"  I  said — I  was  afraid  that  it  was — 
"  but  I  should  advise  you  not  to  use  such  language  about 
our  capital  and  country  even  among  your  American 
friends." 

He  thanked  me  in  the  same  ironical  tone  for  my  good 
advice,  bowed,  and  passed  on.  One  surprise  is  often 
merely  the  precedent  for  a  second,  and  I  had  not  gone 
five  steps  before  I  met  face  to  face  with  another  man 
whom  I  had  not  expected  to  see  there.  He  was  tall  and 
young,  and  the  British  uniform,  always  noted  for  its 
bright  colours,  blazed  upon  him.  The  uniform  was  that 
of  a  lieutenant  in  the  navy,  and  it  was  my  lieutenant  of 
the  Guerriere,  the  officer  from  whom  we  had  saved  the 
American  sailor. 

"  Good  evening,"  he  said,  quite  calmly  and  collect- 
edly. 

"  Good  evening,"  I  said,  adopting  his  tone  and  man- 
ner, which  seemed  to  me  to  be  suited  to  the  occasion; 
"  since  our  second  meeting  is  more  formal  than  the  first, 
I  think  we  had  better  exchange  names.  I  am  Philip 
Ten  Broeck,  of  Kentucky,  late  a  clerk  in  the  office  of  the 
Secretary  of  the  Treasury  at  Washington,  at  present  trav- 
elling for  pleasure,  information,  and  amusement." 

"  I  trust  that  you  are  finding  all  three,  Mr.  Ten 
Broeck,"  he  said  politely;  "  I  am  Henry  Arthur  Allyn,  of 
Derbyshire,  England,  third  lieutenant  aboard  his  Maj- 
esty's thirty-eight-gun  frigate  Guerriere,  now  cruising  at 
the  entrance  to  New  York  harbour  for  the  glory  and 
benefit  of  his  Majesty  and  his  realm  of  England." 

"I  can  not  say  that  I  wish  the  Guerriere  success  in 
such  efforts,  at  least  in  these  waters,"  I  said. 


AN  ARRIVAL  FROM  THE  SOUTH.  159 

"  She  is  a  fine  frigate,"  he  replied,  a  faint  tinge  of 
boasting  appearing  in  his  tone,  "  and  is  sure  to  do  what 
she  is  sent  to  do." 

"  She  might  meet  one  of  ours  some  day,"  I  said. 

He  laughed.  It  was  no  longer  the  slight  tinge  of 
boasting 'that  appeared  in  his  tone.  It  was  incredulity, 
derision  broadly  manifest. 

"  The  Guerriere  would  find  no  trouble  in  sinking 
any  American  ship  that  floats  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea," 
he  said.  "  Pardon  me  for  plain  speaking,  but  everybody 
knows  it;  you  Yankees  know  it.  The  British  navy  has 
crushed  all  the  navies  of  Europe;  odds  have  amounted 
to  nothing." 

"  And  yet,"  I  said,  "  away  back  in  the  Revolution, 
when  we  were  mere  colonies,  there  was  the  Bon  Homme 
Richard  and  the  Serapis,  the  Hyder  Ally  and  the  General 
Monk,  the  Ranger  and  the  Drake,  and  other  cases  where 
the  American  ships  did  not  fare  the  worse,  though  the 
odds  were  not  in  their  favour  at  the  beginning." 

"  Isolated  instances,  mere  exceptions,"  he  said. 
"Why,  even  now,  in  a  time  of  peace,  no  American  ship 
dare  go  five  miles  from  your  ports  without  the  consent  of 
Great  Britain." 

It  was  true,  though  it  was  due  to  the  supineness  of 
our  rulers,  and  not  to  a  lack  of  spirit  among  the  people. 
There  was  no  reply  to  his  taunt,  and,  moreover,  our  talk 
had  begun  to  look  like  a  boasting  match,  so  I  sought  to 
change  the  subject,  but  he  returned  to  it  at  least  in  part. 

"  Perhaps  you  are  surprised,"  he  said,  "  that  we  have 
not  made  any  complaint  about  the  kidnapping  of  our 
sailor,  but  we  do  not  care  to  make  the  affair  public;  we 
would  rather  remain  quiet,  as  we  are  sure  to  have  ample 
opportunities  for  revenge." 

He  was  a  fine  example  of  frank  brutality,  and  Courte- 
nay  and  Mercer  strolling  that  way,  I  presented  them  to 
him.  In  a  few  minutes  we  passed  on,  and  when  I  saw 
him  a  few  minutes  later  he  was  talking  to  some  ladies, 


160  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

and  his  British  uniform  seemed  to  bring  him  no  unpopu- 
larity. Nor  was  he  the  only  British  officer  from  the 
ships  present.  I  soon  learned  that  conspicuous  members 
of  the  peace  party  in  New  York  often  entertained  them, 
and  I  was  secretly  ashamed  of  it,  though  I  saw  that  it 
was  no  place  in  which  to  tell  my  real  feelings. 

The  two  Misses  Eastlake  were  present,  and  in  the 
course  of  the  evening  I  saw  the  elder,  Constance,  and 
Marian  together.  They  formed  a  striking  contrast,  Mar- 
ian with  her  dark  hair  and  eyes  and  her  extremely  fair 
soft  complexion,  which  is  the  most  noted  characteristic 
of  Kentucky  beauty,  while  Miss  Eastlake  was  a  perfect 
blonde.  I  obtained  the  opportunity  to  spend  a  short 
time  with  each,  but  presently  I  saw  that  Courtenay  had 
taken  possession  of  Miss  Eastlake,  while  Bidwell  and 
Van  Steenkerk,  who  had  met  and  who  seemed  to  be  kin- 
dred spirits,  were  dangling  after  Marian.  The  evening 
was  then  far  advanced,  and  as  the  rooms  were  crowded 
the  air  felt  close  and  warm.  Finding  a  convenient  door, 
I  stepped  outside  in  search  of  temporary  relief  in  a  purer 
atmosphere. 

It  was  a  side  door  of  the  house  through  which  I  had 
passed,  and  I  found  myself  standing  in  a  narrow  little 
alley.  The  night  had  turned  dark,  and  the  alley,  with 
the  tall  houses  rising  on  either  side,  was  just  a  streak  of 
blackness.  But  the  air,  blown  through  the  slit  by  the 
wind,  was  fresh  and  cool,  and  I  stood  there  taking  it 
into  my  lungs  in  great  gulps  and  enjoying  it  as  if  it  were 
rare  wine. 

The  alley  created  a  kind  of  draught  for  the  air,  and  as 
the  wind  rushed  by,  crowded  up  between  the  high  walls, 
it  made  a  moaning  as  if  crying  out  for  more  room.  I 
was  startled  by  the  contrast,  the  abrupt  passage  from  the 
brilliant,  lighted  rooms,  crowded  with  people  in  rich 
dress,  to  this  narrow,  pitchy  black  little  alley,  silent  save 
for  the  groaning  of  the  wind  as  it  passed.  Not  a  sound 
came  from  the  house  which  I  had  just  left,  not  a  ray  of. 


AN  ARRIVAL  FROM  THE  SOUTH. 

light.  If  there  were  any  windows  on  that  side  they  were 
closed  with  heavy  shutters. 

I  looked  up  at  the  sky,  and  it  was  like  gazing  from 
the  bottom  of  a  well.  There  was  just  a  patch  of  light 
far  above  me,  which  dwindled  into  nothing  before  it 
reached  the  depths  of  the  well.  The  walls  assumed  fan- 
tastic shapes  in  the  three-quarter  darkness,  and  the  con- 
tinuous groaning  of  the  wind  through  the  cleft  aided  my 
fancy  and  turned  one  shape  into  another. 

Presently  my  eyes,  distending  in  the  darkness,  saw  a 
gleam  of  red  farther  down  the  alley  toward  the  street. 
I  approached  and  found  that  the  red  was  the  colour  of  a 
uniform,  and  going  yet  a  little  nearer  I  saw  that  the 
wearer  of  the  uniform  was  my  new  acquaintance,  Lieu- 
tenant Henry  Arthur  Allyn,  of  his  Britannic  Majesty's 
thirty-eight-gun  frigate  Guerriere.  I  presumed  that  he, 
too,  finding  the  door,  had  come  out  in  search  of  fresh  air, 
but  having  no  wish  to  continue  the  acquaintance  I  with- 
drew farther  up  the  alley  toward  the  rear  of  the  house. 
I  stopped  at  the  corner,  where  another  small  alley,  pass- 
ing in  the  rear  of  the  building,  cut  in  a  right  angle 
across  the  one  in  which  I  stood.  It  was  an  improve- 
ment, as  the  air  coming  in  two  directions  was  still  fresher 
and  purer  than  it  was  in  my  first  position.  As  I  stood 
there,  eyes  gaining  strength  in  the  darkness,  I  could  yet 
see  the  red  gleam  of  the  uniform,  though  the  outlines  of 
its  wearer  were  lost. 

I  did  not  care  to  speak  to  Allyn  again.  I  feared  that 
we  might  be  disagreeable  to  each  other,  and  it  was  not 
the  thing  to  quarrel  at  a  reception  purely  social.  Hav- 
ing this  fear  in  mind  I  stayed  where  I  was  and  waited 
for  him  to  go  in  first.  But  he  made  no  movement,  being 
apparently  as  fond  of  the  fresh  air  as  I  was,  and  since  I 
was  in  no  hurry  I  continued  to  wait. 

The  wind  moaned  up  one  alley  and  shrieked  down  the 
other,  and  the  two  currents  meeting  where  I  stood  min- 
gled into  something  that  had  the  suggestion  of  a  cry  in 


162  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

it,  as  if  a  human  being  were  in  agony.  I  heard  a  faint 
crushing  noise,  as  of  a  body  falling  softly.  My  blood 
quivered,  though  I  said  it  was  nothing.  I  heard  the 
soft,  complaining  noise  again,  and  still  knowing  that  it 
was  nothing  pressed  my  body  back  against  the  cold 
brick  wall.  Something  slid  by  me,  my  blood  quivering 
again  when  it  touched  me,  though  I  was  not  noticed, 
for  the  figure  passed  on  down  the  alley  toward  the  red 
gleam. 

What  a  fool  I  was!  there  is  nothing  supernatural  in 
this  world,  not  even  on  a  dark  night  in  a  narrow  alley 
that  is  like  the  bottom  of  a  well.  I  could  now  see  that 
the  man  who  had  passed  me  with  such  scant  ceremony, 
for  a  man  it  certainly  was,  bent  over  somewhat  and  step- 
ping lightly,  but  obviously  a  human  figure  to  eyes  that 
were  seeing  more  the  longer  they  remained  in  the 
darkness. 

The  man's  left  hand  hung  limply  by  his  side,  while 
his  right  was  held  stiffly  in  front  of  him.  A  ray  of  light 
fell  across  the  right  hand  and  flashed,  as  it  slid  off  the 
edge  of  a  knife.  It  came  upon  me  with  suddenness  and 
conviction  that  this  man,  slipping  out  of  the  dark,  was 
there  for  murder.  But  upon  whom  and  for  what?  The 
quiver  came  again  in  my  blood,  and  became  a  shudder. 
The  man  advanced  toward  the  red  gleam,  swiftly  and 
with  soundless  tread.  The  wind  moaned  up  one  alley 
and  shrieked  down  the  other,  and  I  stood  there  like  a 
great  fool,  watching  the  whole  thing  and  doing  nothing 
else. 

The  man  stopped,  and,  leaing  against  the  wall  as  if 
he  would  plan  further  before  he  struck,  turned  his  face 
slightly  upward.  A  few  beams  from  the  top  of  the  cleft 
fell  upon  it  and  showed  it  to  me.  The  face  was  gaunt, 
scarred,  and  wild,  and  I  knew  it.  That  glimpse  recalled 
me  to  myself  and  to  a  sense  of  my  duty. 

I  took  three  long  steps,  as  soundless  as  his  own,  and 
my  right  hand  fell  upon  the  wrist  of  the  hand  that  held 


AN  ARRIVAL  FROM  THE  SOUTH.  163 

the  knife.  It  was  a  thin,  wasted  wrist,  and  my  fingers 
closed  around  it  and  held  it  as  tightly  as  if  it  were  that 
of  a  child.  A  cry  rose  to  his  lips,  but  my  other  hand  fell 
over  his  mouth  and  shut  it  off. 

"  Come  back  into  this  other  alley,  where  no  one  can 
see  us,"  I  said  in  a  hasty  whisper.  "  Nobody  shall  harm 
you.  I'm  your  friend." 

He  yielded  weakly,  going  back  with  me  without  re- 
sistance and  without  complaint.  I  took  my  hand  from 
his  mouth  and  the  knife  from  his  other  hand,  but  I  kept 
a  firm  grip  on  his  shoulder.  I  cast  one  look  back  at  the 
red  gleam  and  it  was  still  there,  the  wearer  of  the  brilliant 
uniform  seeing  and  hearing  nothing. 

We  walked  down  the  cross  alley  where  the  light  was 
brighter.  It  shone  now  directly  upon  my  companion's 
face,  showing  every  seam  and  line,  and  meeting  the  look 
of  his  excited  eyes.  His  whole  expression  was  that  of  a 
frightened,  crushed  man.  I  think  that  if  I  had  pressed 
my  hand  upon  him  he  would  have  dropped  to  the  earth, 
such  was  the  revulsion  of  feeling  in  him,  his  shame  in 
being. caught  in  such  an  act,  and  perhaps  a  feeling  of  ap- 
prehension too. 

"  Patterson,"  I  said,  "  I  know  why  you  were  about  to 
murder  that  officer." 

"  It's  true,"  he  said;  "  he  had  flogged  me  more  than 
once  aboard  the  ship,  and  he  was  the  worst  of  them  all. 
But  I  would  not  try  to  do  it  again.  You  came  just  in 
time.  God  forgive  me!  " 

He  put  his  hands  over  his  face. 

"I  am  not  going  to  give  you  up,"  I  said,  "or  tell 
about  you.  There's  a  better  way  of  revenge  than  the 
secret  blade.  I  have  your  knife  in  my  pocket  now. 
Promise  me  that  you  will  not  get  another." 

He  said  he  would  not. 

"  Go  back  to  your  father's  house,"  I  said.  "  Get 
back  your  strength,  for  soon  there  will  be  war  between 
England  and  us.  Then,  with  your  place  at  your  gun, 


A  HEEALD  OP  THE  WEST. 

you  can  seek  revenge,  but  never  in  this  way.  Do  you 
promise?" 

He  bowed  his  head,  and  as  I  took  my  hand  off  his 
shoulder  he  slid  away  in  the  darkness,  his  footfalls  mak- 
ing a  soft  crushing  noise  and  then  ceasing  as  the  dark 
blur  of  his  figure  disappeared. 

I  returned  to  the  first  alley.  The  red  gleam  was 
gone,  and  having  enough  of  the  fresh  air  and  the  outside 
of  the  house  I  opened  the  door  and  entered  again.  A 
half  hour  later  I  passed  Lieutenant  Allyn  and  he  nodded 
to  me.  But  I  did  not  tell  him  that  I  had  saved  his  life. 
It  was  a  secret  that  I  intended  to  keep. 

In  another  half  hour  the  people  were  going  home. 
Courtenay,  Mercer,  and  I  paid  our  respects  to  our  hosts, 
bade  the  others  whom  we  knew  good  night,  and  walked 
back  through  the  streets  toward  our  tavern.  Each  of 
us  had  a  bed  in  the  same  room,  and  we  cast  off  our 
clothes  in  a  hurry,  as  it  was  late  and  we  wanted  sleep. 
I  threw  my  coat  over  a  chair,  and  Courtenay  pushed  it 
a  little  to  one  side  to  make  room  for  his  also. 

"  Hey,  what  is  that?  "  he  exclaimed. 

"What  is  what?"  I  asked  sleepily. 

"  This  that  I  have  found  in  your  pocket?  "  he  replied, 
holding  up  a  knife,  more  like  a  dagger,  with  a  long,  keen 
double  edge. 

"  That,"  I  said,  "  is  a  memento  of  New  York  which 
was  presented  to  me  to-night." 

In  two  minutes  we  three  were  sound  asleep. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


I  FELT  that  it  was  time  to  leave  New  York  for  Bos- 
ton, as  I  had  been  instructed  not  to  linger  in  any  city, 
at  least  on  the  Northern  journey,  and  though  there  were 
several  things  tempting  me  to  stay  longer  in  New  York, 
which  I  liked,  I  arranged  to  depart  on  the  second  morn- 
ing after  the  reception  to  the  Pendletons.  Courtenay 
and  Mercer  adjusted  their  affairs  that  they  might  go  with 
me,  for  in  such  troubled  times,  in  the  divided  state  of 
the  country,  with  plotters  hovering  about,  we  saw  the 
need  of  good  strong  arms  and  loyal  hearts,  which  each 
of  us  was  confident  that  the  others  had. 

I  said  good-bye  to  Marian,  and  again  I  was  tempted 
to  speak  to  her  words  which  I  believed  might  not  be  un- 
welcome in  other  times,  but  the  command  of  self  came 
to  my  aid  and  they  were  unsaid. 

Not  caring  to  risk  the  long  trip  by  schooner,  with  its 
doubts  and  delays  and  currents  and  calms,  we  adhered 
to  our  regular  plan  of  travel  from  Washington,  and 
bought  seats  on  the  stagecoach  for  Boston.  These 
coaches  were  of  lighter  make  and  build  than  those  on 
which  we  had  come  up  from  the  South,  and  one  left 
New  York  every  alternate  morning,  Sunday  omitted,  for 
Boston,  as  many  running  in  the  opposite  direction. 

It  was  with  the  deepest  interest  that  we  entered  the 
New  England  country,  the  fame  of  which  has  spread 
throughout  the  world  because  of  the  very  strong  and  pe- 
culiar characteristics  of  its  people,  their  industry,  their 

165 


166  A  HEEALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

thrift,  their  religion,  and  the  wonderful  divergence 
sometimes  existing  between  its  preaching  and  its  prac- 
tice, said  to  be  greater  there  than  anywhere  else  on  the 
globe;  their  singular  inventive  genius,  which  was  already 
changing  the  mechanical  world,  practically  unchanged 
before  for  thousands  of  years;  and  the  high  esteem  in 
which  they  held  literary  pursuits  and  men  of  letters, 
most  of  us  of  the  West  being  a  little  afraid  of  the  latter. 

After  rejoicing  in  the  sunshine  and  the  fresh  winds 
we  looked  about  at  our  company  of  fellow-travellers.  As 
we  soon  discovered,  they  were  chiefly  New  Englanders 
returning  home,  and  not  New  Yorkers  going  to  New  Eng- 
land. They  were  mostly  a  sad,  sober  lot  in  looks,  but 
quite  willing  to  talk  and  to  talk  about  many  things. 
They  gave  us  much  fatherly  advice,  which  we  took  in  a 
childlike  spirit,  when  they  learned  that  we  were  from 
the  South  and  West,  suggesting  that  we  abandon  our 
wild,  irreverent  ways  and  barbaric  modes  of  thought  and 
imitate  the  good  fathers  of  New  England  in  all  things, 
thus  finding  a  spiritual  and  worldly  prosperity,  they 
themselves  neglecting  neither  kind.  We  promised. 

We  were  well  into  the  Connecticut  country  when  we 
took  on  a  woman  passenger  for  New  Haven,  at  which 
town  our  coach  intended  to  stop  for  the  night.  She  was 
a  strapping  big  woman,  at  least  sixty-five  years  old,  with 
the  face  of  a  grenadier,  barring  the  whiskers  and  mus- 
tache, and  a  figure  of  great  strength  and  activity.  Her 
complexion  was  very  red  and  was  rimmed  around  by 
white  hair.  Her  long,  vigorous  stride,  as  she  approached 
the  coach,  and  the  ease  with  which  she  climbed  into  it 
increased  her  martial  appearance.  She  took  the  seat  be- 
side me,  which  was  the  only  one  then  vacant,  but  re- 
mained silent,  taking  no  notice  of  the  talk  and  staring 
straight  ahead  like  those  who  are  busy  with  their  own 
thoughts  and  see  nothing. 

The  conversation  was  naturally  of  the  expected  war 
and  its  probable  consequences.  One  could  not  escape  the 


IN  THE  ENEMY'S  CAMP.  167 

talk  of  war  in  those  days,  if  not  about  a  war  of  our  own 
then  about  some  one  else's,  for  nearly  all  the  world  was 
fighting — the  shadow  of  the  twin  evils,  Bonaparte  and 
England,  being  over  everything. 

In  New  York  we  had  some  friends  who  were  willing 
to  share  with  us  the  dangers  of  war  for  the  sake  of 
honour  and  an  independent  national  existence,  but  here 
we  had  none;  the  New  Englanders,  who  had  brought  on 
the  Revolutionary  struggle,  who  had  proven  themselves 
so  stern  and  enduring  in  the  conflict,  who  hardly  knew 
what  it  was,  farmers  though  they  were,  to  be  beaten  in 
the  open  field  by  the  best  regulars  of  Europe,  had  now 
turned  to  sheep,  and  the  potion  which  had  caused  the 
evil  transformation  was  money.  The  New  Englanders 
had  a  great  trade  and  commerce  spread  throughout  the 
world;  they  were  the  best,  the  most  daring,  and  the  most 
enterprising  of  all  sailors,  and  with  that  strange  com- 
mingling of  the  New  England  nature,  as  I  have  seen  it, 
which  loves  God  and  loves  money  in  about  equal  parts, 
they  were  prepared  to  endure  any  dishonour  rather  than 
imperil  the  commerce  which  was  enriching  them  so 
fast.  I  like  the  dollar,  and  I  know  its  value.  I  do  not 
think  it  should  be  despised,  and  a  pretence  that  it  is 
despised  is  usually  an  affectation  or  evidence  of  an  un- 
sound mind;  but  I  believe  that  a  nation  should  be  ready 
to  make  a  sacrifice  even  of  its  prosperity  for  the  sake  of 
what  is  right  and  just. 

But  we  three,  though  we  talked  our  best,  were  no 
match  for  our  New  Englanders,  who  had  the  advantage 
of  age  and  numbers  and  could  quote  innumerable  doc- 
trines for  which  we  had  no  reply,  though  as  sure  as 
ever  that  we  were  right.  Thus  we  wrangled  for  a  long 
time. 

"  Sir,"  said  one  elder  at  length  with  great  empha- 
sis, "the  men  of  New  England  will  never  be  led  into 
any  such  wild  and  ruinous  measure  as  this  proposed 


168  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

"  Did  you  say  the  men  of  New  England?  "  asked  the 
old  woman  beside  me. 

They  were  the  first  words  that  she  had  spoken,  and 
her  voice  was  deep  and  harsh  like  a  man's.  Her  accent 
was  on  the  word  "  men." 

"  Certainly,  madame,"  replied  the  elder  politely. 

"Where  are  they?" 

"  Where  are  they?     I  do  not  understand  you?  " 

"  Where  are  the  men  of  New  England  of  whom  you 
speak?  I  live  in  New  England  and  I  have  not  seen  one 
of  them  for  a  long  time;  I  have  not  heard  one  of  them 
speak.  We  used  to  have  plenty  of  them  thirty  or  forty 
years  ago,  but  they  have  all  emigrated  to  the  West  and 
South,  and  now  we  have  left  only  children  and  old 
women  like  myself  and  you,  sir." 

A  heavy  and  solemn  silence  fell  upon  us.  I  could 
have  embraced  that  woman  then  and  there.  Remember 
that  she  was  old  enough  to  be  my  mother,  almost  my 
grandmother.  Still  I  did  not  dare. 

"  Madame,"  said  the  elder  after  a  while,  and  timidly, 
"  your  remark  was  violent." 

"  A  woman  might  think  so,"  she  replied. 

"  But  peaceful  people  are  opposed  to  war." 

"  They  were  not  in  '76." 

The  elder  again  relapsed  into  silence.  The  martial 
lady  imitated  his  example  and  did  not  speak  again  until 
we  reached  New  Haven,  where  she  left  the  coach  with  a 
curt  adieu,  followed,  however,  by  the  deep  respect  of  us 
three. 

On  the  evening  of  the  third  day  we  approached  Bos- 
ton, famous  for  valour,  piety,  and  good  business,  all  three 
of  us  looking  about  with  the  deepest  interest,  as  the  glo- 
rious memories  of  the  Eevolution  clustered  thickly  there, 
and  no  city,  not  even  New  York  or  Philadelphia,  had  a 
larger  place  in  our  minds  than  Boston.  We  alighted  at  the 
Sun  Tavern,  which  you  may  know  is  in  Faneuil  Square, 
near  Faneuil  Hall  of  patriotic  fame,  and  slept  soundly  in 


IN  THE  ENEMY'S  CAMP.  169 

an  atmosphere  which  seemed  to  be  composed  of  the  same 
elements  as  that  of  the  other  cities  we  had  visited.  Yet 
we  felt  the  next  morning  that,  despite  ourselves,  a  certain 
primness  had  left  upon  us  a  mark  sufficient  to  be  noticed 
by  each  of  the  others,  and  sufficient,  too,  to  make  us 
feel  a  trifle  constrained,  as  if  we  had  put  on  new  clothes 
that  did  not  fit  us. 

Breakfast  finished,  we  followed  our  custom  of  seeing 
the  sights  of  a  town  as  soon  as  we  could  after  our  arrival, 
and  walked  about  the  streets  of  Boston  with  the  greatest 
diligence,  as  there  was  much  to  see.  We  visited  all  the 
cradles  of  liberty — that  is,  the  places  where  independ- 
ence was  born — and  were  surprised  to  find  that  they  were 
so  numerous.  We  saw  Faneuil  Hall,  the  Old  South 
Church,  the  Old  North  Church,  the  queer  old  Feather 
Store,  and  the  Province  House,  where  the  royal  govern- 
ors used  to  live,  with  the  Indian  on  the  weather  vane 
ready  to  shoot  his  arrow,  the  house  where  the  Boston 
tea  party  met,  and  we  walked  three  times  around  the 
stump  of  the  old  Liberty  tree,  with  the  Liberty  pole 
planted  in  the  centre  of  it.  Then,  feeling  as  full  as  we 
could  hold  of  patriotism  and  ready  to  whip  the  universe 
if  it  needed  a  whipping,  we  went  off  in  search  of  our 
friend  Mr.  Jonathan  Starbuck,  once  wild  sailor  boy 
of  the  Bon  Homme  Kichard,  now  pious  merchant  of 
years  and  wealth.  His  invitation  to  call  upon  him  in 
Boston  had  been  given  with  such  heartiness  that  we  were 
sure  he  would  be  glad  to  see  us,  despite  our  knowledge 
that  invitations  to  visit  given  far  away  from  home  are 
not  always  to  be  accepted  in  too  literal  a  spirit.  But  we 
were  not  mistaken  in  him,  for,  though  surrounded  in  his 
warehouse  by  boxes  and  bales  to  such  an  extent  that  we 
could  see  only  his  perspiring  face  projecting  above  them, 
he  reached  each  of  us  his  hand  in  turn  across  the  bar- 
rier of  merchandise,  and  shook  ours  with  strength  and 
heartiness. 

"But  remember  one  thing,  lads,"  he  said  after  first 
12 


170  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

greetings,  "I  am  a  man  of  peace  and  this  is  a  town  of 
peace." 

"  Peace  and  trade,  peace  and  profit/'  said  Courtenay. 

"  Put  it  that  way  if  you  choose/'  said  the  merchant, 
"but  remember,  none  of  your  fiery  Western  talk  here. 
We  feel  very  friendly  toward  England,  nor  do  we  want 
any  quarrel  with  France  either." 

He  spoke  in  much  seriousness,  and  I,  for  one,  having 
seen  the  value  of  silence  resolved  to  be  chary  and  careful 
in  my  speech. 

He  asked  us  where  we  were  putting  up,  and  when 
Mercer  told  him  at  the  Sun  Tavern  he  seemed  to  be 
pleased,  and  his  eye  twinkled  as  if  the  reply  had  put  him 
in  mind  of  something. 

"  Have  you  brought  your  best  clothes  with  you?  "  he 
asked. 

"We  never  travel  without  them,"  said  Courtenay. 

"You  show  wisdom,"  he  replied,  "and  it  will  be 
convenient  for  you  now.  You  are  three  fire  eaters 
from  the  West  and  South,  mad  for  war  with  Britain, 
and  you  wish  to  know  something  about  the  temper  of 
the  people  of  New  England;  there  is  to  be  a  banquet 
at  your  tavern  to-night,  and  I  am  to  attend  it.  I 
can  take  you  with  me,  and  as  you  will  hear  things 
there  that  will  interest  and  instruct  you,  I  shall  be 
pleased  to  do  so  if  you  will  promise  to  conduct  your- 
selves as  if  you  had  been  born  and  bred  in  Boston 
itself." 

We  promised  with  eagerness,  despite  the  proviso  in 
his  invitation,  and  my  general  instruction  to  seek  other 
than  public  men,  and  we  besought  him  to  tell  us  some- 
thing more  about  the  affair,  but  he  would  not,  content- 
ing himself  with  saying  that  our  time  would  be  well 
spent,  his  eye  meantime  lighted  up  by  the  same  twinkle 
which  I  had  observed  when  he  asked  us  to  be  of  his  com- 
pany at  the  feast. 

"  Be  sure  that  you  put  on  your  choicest  clothes  and 


IN  THE  ENEMY'S  CAMP. 

your  best  dignity,  for  some  fine  people  will  be  there/'  he 
said  as  we  left  him. 

There  was  nothing  to  fear  upon  that  point,  since  we 
three  were  determined  to  make  our  best  appearance  in 
this  city,  in  which  people  looked  at  us  in  the  critical  and 
chilly  way,  and  with  that  intention  well  to  the  fore  we 
hastened  back  to  the  Sun  Tavern,  where  we  devoted  the 
remainder  of  the  afternoon  to  our  preparations. 

Soon  after  supper,  elderly  men  of  fine  presence  and 
careful  and  costly  apparel,  whom  we  took  to  be  people 
of  consequence,  though  their  names  were  unknown  to  us, 
began  to  gather  at  the  Sun  Tavern.  We  heard  them 
addressed  as  judge  and  doctor,  but  we  remained  in  igno- 
rance until  our  friend,  Mr.  Starbuck,  came.  He  was 
pleased  with  our  appearance. 

"  You  will  do  me  credit,"  he  said;  "  you  certainly 
will — that  is,  if  you  will  hold  your  tongues." 

He  was  in  fine  attire  himself,  and  we  followed  him 
to  the  great  parlour  of  the  tavern,  where  a  long  table  was 
spread  richly  for  the  banquet  and  a  company  of  at  least 
twenty  men  were  gathered,  to  many  of  whom  we  were 
introduced.  It  was  not  the  fighting  sailor  of  the  Bon 
Homme  Richard  who  introduced  us,  but  the  portly  mer- 
chant of  Boston,  and  as  the  names  were  called  we  saw 
that  we  were  right  when  we  supposed  these  people  to  be  of 
distinction,  though  the  distinction  was  not  altogether  of 
the  kind  that  we  admired  or  liked.  We  were  surrounded 
by  that  body  of  men  known  as  the  Essex  Junto,  afterward 
the  leaders  in  the  infamous  and  treasonable  Hartford 
Convention;  a  group  learned  and  of  extreme  respect- 
ability in  private  life,  but  as  untrue  to  their  country,  to 
public  interest,  and  to  public  duty  as  anybody  could  well 
be,  so  I  believed  then  and  so  I  believe  now,  and  so  all  the 
historians  say.  How  true  it  is  that  men  of  learning,  posi- 
tion, and  luxury  think  so  much  of  those  things  that  they 
lose  sight  of  the  right  when  it  may  bring  hardship 
with  it! 


172  A  HERALD  OP  THE  WEST. 

"  Mr.  Pickering,  my  young  friends,  Mr.  Ten  Broeck, 
of  Kentucky;  Mr.  Mercer,  of  Tennessee;  and  Mr.  Courte- 
nay,  of  South  Carolina.  They  wish  to  know  the  real  East, 
and  I  have  brought  them  here  that  they  might  see  it." 

We  were  bowing  to  Timothy  Pickering,  the  great 
Federalist  of  Massachusetts,  a  man  who  considered  all 
people  of  the  West  barbarians,  and  who  seemed  to  be  sur- 
prised that  we  wore  clothes  of  the  cut  and  quality  of  his 
own  and  comported  ourselves  with  becoming  dignity.  He 
was  nearer  seventy  than  sixty  then,  with  a  fine  face  and  a 
head  clad  only  on  the  back  with  hair.  He  said,  a  trifle 
dryly,  not  seeking  to  conceal  the  satire  in  it,  that  he 
hoped  we  would  return  properly  enlightened  concerning 
the  Eastern  state  of  mind,  and  we  could  only  reply  to  a 
man  so  much  older  and  more  distinguished  than  our- 
selves that  we  were  sure  we  would  be,  passing  on  then 
with  our  patron  to  be  presented  to  others.  We  found 
ourselves  bowing,  a  moment  later,  to  Theophilus  Par- 
sons, the  Chief  Justice  of  Massachusetts,  and  after  him 
Harrison  Gray  Otis,  the  President  of  the  State  Senate; 
George  Cabot,  the  financier;  Theodore  Sedgwick;  John 
Lowell,  both  senior  and  junior;  one  of  the  Gris wolds  of 
Connecticut;  and  others  whose  names  were  known  and 
hated  by  us  of  the  West — as  rank  a  group  of  Federalists 
as  could  be  gathered  between  the  four  seas  that  rim 
America.  I  kicked  Courtenay's  toe. 

"  We  are  in  the  enemy's  camp,"  I  whispered.  "  Be 
careful." 

"  We  need  to  be,"  he  replied. 

Our  presence  attracted  much  attention  and  curiosity, 
as  was  natural,  we  being  so  much  younger  than  the  others 
and  coming  from  a  portion  of  the  country  which  was  then 
distinctly  hostile  to  New  England.  They  seemed  to  be 
glad  that  we  were  there,  as  it  gave  them  an  opportunity 
to  instruct  us,  and,  moreover,  they  could  badger  us  a 
bit,  neither  of  which  they  neglected  to  do,  though  they 
were  very  nice  and  delicate  in  their  bestowal  of  such  at- 


IN  THE  ENEMY'S  CAMP.  173 

tentions,  compelling  us  to  admire  the  fineness  and  polish 
of  their  manners.  Courtenay  had  acquired  something  of 
this  personal  finish  in  his  own  Charleston,  where  there 
was  a  cultivated  and  literary  society,  though  small;  but 
we  were  unused  to  it  in  the  West,  where  the  manners 
that  we  valued  highly  were  of  the  large,  open  kind,  ac- 
companied by  long  sentences  delivered  in  a  loud  voice, 
and  men's  faces  were  always  ruddy  or  seamed  with  much 
living  in  the  open,  a  characteristic  that  they  preserve  to 
this  day.  But  these  were  men  of  books  and  the  study 
room,  and  their  faces  were  thin  and  white,  and  their 
bodies  looked  lean  and  weak  in  comparison  with  the 
great,  rugged  beings  to  whom  I  was  accustomed  in  the 
West.  I  don't  think  they  learned  from  their  books  the 
policy  that  so  nearly  brought  our  country  to  ruin,  but 
must  have  evolved  it  from  their  own  desires  and  objec- 
tion to  anything  that  might  disturb  their  personal 
comfort. 

They  were  not  at  all  averse  to  talking  before  us;  in 
truth,  seemed  rather  glad  of  it,  wishing  their  opinions 
in  all  their  virulence  to  be  known  afar,  and  thinking 
we  would  prove  faithful  reporters  of  what  we  heard.  So 
we  listened  to  much  abuse  of  Mr.  Jefferson's  Republican 
party,  which  everybody  in  his  heart  knows  was  the  Na- 
tional party,  representing  the  thoughts  and  the  just  as- 
pirations of  the  United  States,  and  I  was  forced  to  reply 
several  times  as  best  I  could  to  the  taunting  question 
how  Mr.  Madison  proposed  to  carry  on  his  war  when  he 
succeeded  in  declaring  it. 

"  We  will  whip  old  England  first,  and  then  New  Eng- 
land," I  said  at  last,  in  some  exasperation  to  Mr.  Justice 
Parsons. 

He  laughed,  as  if  the  first  were  much  easier  than  the 
second,  and  continued  to  badger  us.  We  also  made  the 
original  discovery  among  those  learned  men  that  New 
England  alone  had  fought  and  won  the  Revolution,  and 
she  had  permitted  the  Middle  and  Southern  States  to 


174  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

share  with  her  in  its  benefits.  They  seemed  to  have  for- 
gotten the  thousands  of  Virginians  and  other  Southern- 
ers who  marched  hundreds  of  miles  at  the  first  cry  for 
aid  from  Massachusetts  and  helped  to  drive  the  British 
out  of  Boston,  and  the  shiploads  of  corn  that  came  free 
even  from  far  North  Carolina  to  feed  the  starving  Bos- 
tonians.  They  had  forgotten  all  these  things,  and  hun- 
dreds of  others  like  them,  and  remembered  only  that  New 
England  had  fought  everything  and  done  everything, 
and  would  continue  to  think  and  to  do  everything;  other 
people  were  superfluous;  in  which  New  England  has  been 
vastly  fooled. 

"  It's  time  to  be  seated  at  table,"  said  Mr.  Pickering. 
"  The  chief  guest  of  the  evening,  as  you  know,  is  de- 
tained at  an  earlier  and  somewhat  similar  entertainment, 
but  we  are  not  to  wait  for  him." 

So  we  sat  down.  I  had  a  very  fair  place,  near  the 
foot  of  the  table,  hidden  somewhat  though  by  a  curve  of 
a  wall,  with  Mr.  Starbuck  on  one  side  of  me  and  a  Con- 
necticut Griswold  on  the  other.  I  had  pricked  up  my 
ears  at  the  announcement  of  a  chief  guest  to  come 
later,  and,  supposing  it  to  be  the  Governor  of  the  State 
at  least,  looked  forward  with  interest  to  his  coming. 

But  those  men  knew  how  to  choose  a  dinner  if  not 
an  honest  political  policy,  and  eating  their  good  food 
my  heart  warmed  toward  them  a  little.  Yet  I  fear  that 
a  nation  is  in  decay  when  it  begins  to  make  a  god  of  its 
stomach.  But  the  Connecticut  man  beside  me  did  not 
permit  any  excessive  growth  of  sympathy  on  my  part, 
since  he  took  occasion  to  ask  many  questions  about  us 
Western  people  in  a  supercilious  way,  as  if  we  were  really 
not  worth  it,  but  he  must  talk  about  us  as  a  matter  of 
courtesy  to  me.  He  seemed  to  take  the  greatest  offence 
at  the  manners  of  the  West,  and  our  lack  of  that  polish 
and  knowledge  of  small  social  detail  which  in  his  opinion 
added  so  much  distinction  to  the  courts  of  Europe  and 
which  New  England  hoped  to  imitate,  humbly  and  afar, 


IN  THE  ENEMY'S  CAMP.  175 

it  is  true,  but  still  to  imitate;  as  if  men  like  ours  of  Ken- 
tucky, who  had  been  forced  to  spend  half  their  lives  axe 
in  hand  cutting  down  the  forest,  and  the  other  half 
rifle  in  hand  fighting  wild  beasts  and  wilder  Indians, 
could  become  dandies  and  beaux  or  ought  to  become 
such.  I  replied  with  as  much  eloquence  and  logic  as  I 
could,  and  we  were  deep  in  attack  and  defence,  thinking 
not  much  of  other  things,  when  there  was  a  bustle  near 
the  head  of  the  table,  and  Mr.  Pickering,  who  seemed 
to  be  master  of  ceremonies,  called  out  in  a  loud  voice: 

"  Major  Gilbert  Northcote,  our  guest,  gentlemen! " 

There  stood  my  kinsman,  in  his  finest  apparel,  easy, 
triumphant,  bowing  with  infinite  grace  to  the  guests 
who  had  risen  to  receive  him.  I  rose  with  the  others, 
half  mechanically,  though  I  supposed  there  was  nothing 
else  to  do,  and  looked  at  him,  surprised  at  his  appearance 
as  guest  of  honour  in  a  company  of  Americans. 

His  attire,  in  cut  and  quality,  was  much  like  mine — I 
wore  the  new  clothes  that  had  been  made  for  me  in 
New  York — but  brighter  in  colour,  and  he  also  car- 
ried a  richly  chased  and  enamelled  sword  at  his  side, 
after  a  custom  passing  away.  He  was  a  large,  fine  man, 
whose  manners  were  impressive,  and  he  showed  plainly 
that  he  felt  the  warmth  of  his  reception.  I  remembered 
then  Mr.  Pickering's  early  allusion  to  the  guest  of  the 
evening,  but  I  had  not  dreamed  that  it  could  be  Major 
Northcote,  who,  if  one  is  to  speak  bluntly,  was  a  caught 
spy  upon  us,  driven  out  of  Washington,  and  deserving 
the  suspicion  and  dislike  of  all  honest  Americans,  but 
bearing  himself  now  with  dignity  and  satisfaction,  as  if 
he  were  the  best  among  many  patriots.  I  looked  at  Mr. 
Starbuck,  but  I  felt  sure  that  this  was  the  result  of  no 
plan  of  his;  very  likely  he  would  remember  now  the  face 
of  the  British  officer  who  had  been  with  us  on  our  trav- 
els, but  he  had  not  heard  his  name  nor  did  he  know 
that  he  was  a  kinsman  of  mine. 

"  Friends,"   said  one,   "  a   cheer  for  Major  Gilbert 


176  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

Northcote,  the  gallant  Englishman  who  has  been  made 
a  martyr  by  those  barbarians  down  there  at  Washington 
because  he  is  a  gentleman  and  a  true  lover  of  his  great 
and  glorious  country." 

Then  they  applauded  him,  though  some  of  them  may 
have  thought  that  this  was  putting  it  rather  strong,  and 
he  looked  around  the  room,  his  glance  falling  upon 
me.  He  showed  no  surprise,  but  he  seemed  to  threaten 
me  for  the  first  time.  I  felt  sure  that  something  un- 
pleasant was  coming.  Courtenay  and  Mercer  looked  at 
me  in  amazement. 

The  word  martyr  seemed  to  have  caught  the  fancy 
of  the  guests  for  they  repeated  it,  and  after  the  major 
had  settled  in  his  chair  and  some  dishes  and  the  wine 
had  been  passed,  Otis  asked  him  to  tell  us  about  it. 
There  was  no  slackness  on  the  part  of  my  kinsman,  and 
rising,  that  he  might  be  seen  and  heard  the  better,  he 
gave  me  again  that  swift  glance  of  menace  and  began 
his  narration,  which  was  so  far  from  the  facts  that  I  was 
astonished  at  his  invention  and  his  boldness  in  using  it, 
and  yet  it  was  told  in  the  most  convincing  manner. 
More  than  once  I  admired  this  man's  power  over  himself, 
though  I  now  saw  it  used  for  an  evil  purpose. 

He  told  of  his  residence  at  Washington  as  a  British 
official,  the  sudden  and  mortal  prejudice  the  Government 
had  taken  against  him  because  he  was  not  its  admirer, 
the  way  in  which  it  then  proceeded  to  spy  upon  him 
and  to  hound  him,  and  at  last  how  it  had  opened  his 
private  mail;  made  some  absurd  charges  against  him, 
and  demanded  his  departure  from  Washington,  a  place 
that  it  had  given  him  the  greatest  pleasure  of  his  life  to 
leave. 

They  received  this  faithful  narration  with  applause 
and  laughter — applause  for  him,  laughter  for  the  Presi- 
dent and  his  Cabinet  and  the  men  who  were  true  to  their 
duty.  My  cousin  put  one  hand  upon  the  hilt  of  his 
sword,  the  other  upon  the  table,  and  looked  around  as  if 


IN  THE  ENEMY'S  CAMP.  177 

he  would  mark  the  different  degree  of  applause  he  re- 
ceived from  each.  So  looking,  his  eyes  met  mine  for  the 
third  time,  and  he  started  as  if  it  had  heen  the  first. 
Then  he  gazed  at  me  in  a  cold  and  arrogant  fashion, 
showing  plainly  that  he  meditated  some  stroke,  and  wav- 
ing his  hand  for  silence  said: 

"  Friends,  I  told  you  that  I  was  maligned  and  perse- 
cuted because  I  happened  to  love  my  own  country  better 
than  the  one  in  which  I  was  a  stranger.  I  have  told  you 
also  of  their  plot  to  defame  me,  but  I  have  not  told  you 
that  the  chief  instrument  in  the  plot  was  a  young  man 
who  was  more  than  a  spy — a  traitor,  in  fact — for  he  was 
my  own  blood  relative." 

A  murmur  of  condemnation  arose,  and  some  said 
aloud,  "Shame!"  "What  a  wretch!"  I  waited  with 
interest,  and  also,  I  think,  with  some  degree  of  coolness 
to  hear  what  further  he  had  to  say,  and  I  saw  that  his 
plan  of  action  was  the  one  likely  to  be  most  effective 
with  the  men  present  there.  He  was  not  looking  at  me, 
but  swept  the  table  with  his  eye,  as  if  he  would  hold 
them  all  in  the  utmost  attention,  and  I  was  sure  that  not 
one  looked  away  from  him. 

"  You  say  '  shame '  rightfully,"  he  continued,  "  and 
you  call  him  a  wretch  truly,  for  I  can  not  shield  him, 
even  if  he  be  my  own  cousin;  but,  most  amazing  of  all, 
such  are  the  swagger  and  insolence  of  this  young  man, 
he  is  present  here  to-night  among  you,  at  this  table,  your 
guest,  the  spy  of  the  Washington  Government  upon  you, 
your  words,  your  actions." 

They  cried  out  to  know  what  he  meant,  who  was  the 
man?  He  levelled  his  straight,  accusing  finger  at  me, 
as  if  I  were  some  great  criminal,  and  his  red  face  blazed. 

"  There  he  is,"  he  said,  pointing  at  me  in  a  manner 
that  was  indignant  and  looked  most  real;  "Philip  Ten 
Broeck,  my  cousin,  who  has  sought  to  ruin  me,  who  has 
exposed  me  to  countless  humiliations  and  mortifications, 
the  employee  of  that  Swiss-American,  Gallatin — a  spy 


178  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

sent  here  to  take  back  a  false  and  malicious  report  of 
you." 

Everybody  looked  at  me,  and  many  said  things  which 
burned  in  my  ears,  bringing  me  to  a  feeling  of  dis- 
comfort, but  I  was  not  going  to  let  myself  be  overpow- 
ered, although  his  sudden  change  of  manner,  which 
formerly  had  been  so  conciliatory,  was  disconcerting. 
I  was  preparing  to  speak,  not  sure,  however,  what  tone 
I  should  adopt,  when  they  began  to  accuse  Mr.  Starbuck, 
inasmuch  as  he  had  brought  me  there,  and  demanded 
of  him  the  meaning  of  an  action  which  seemed  so  strange. 
His  face,  too,  had  flushed  and  there  was  a  flash  in  his 
eye  which  betokened  rising  anger.  He  sprang  to  his 
feet,  and  I  saw  that  the  portly  Boston  merchant  had  be- 
come the  wild  sailor  of  the  Bon  Homme  Richard  again. 
Just  then  I  liked  the  change. 

"  This  young  gentleman,  Mr.  Ten  Broeck,  and  his 
comrades  came  here  at  my  invitation,"  he  said,  "  and 
with  the  knowledge  and  consent  of  most  of  you.  That 
he  is  a  spy,  or  his  friends  are  spies,  I  do  not  believe. 
Any  charges  that  you  make  against  him  or  them,  you 
make  against  me  too." 

He  was  very  angry  now,  and  a  glass  broke  with  a 
crash  under  his  hand.  His  wrathful  little  speech  put  a 
new  phase  upon  the  matter,  and  some  called  out  to  me 
to  say  what  I  had  to  say  for  myself,  which  I  was  glad  to 
do,  waiting  only  for  the  opportunity  hitherto  denied 
to  me. 

Anger  and  conviction  of  right  often  spur  one  who 
may  not  be  an  orator  into  a  sort  of  rude  eloquence,  and 
the  words  came  to  me  so  fast  that  I  had  nothing  to 
do  but  to  arrange  them  in  proper  order.  I  admitted 
that  the  man  sitting  at  the  head  of  the  table  beside 
the  president  of  the  feast  was  my  cousin,  a  fact  that 
I  could  not  help,  and  about  which  I  was  never  con- 
sulted, and  of  which  I  was  now  ashamed;  but  he,  and 
not  I,  was  the  spy;  that  he  had  been  driven  from  Wash- 


IN  THE  ENEMY'S  CAMP.  179 

ington  because  he  had  been  engaged  in  a  hostile  bus- 
iness; that  I,  not  he,  had  been  persecuted,  and  that  he, 
not  I,  was  the  persecutor.  I  went  on  to  tell  the  whole 
tale,  to  which  they  listened  with  great  attention,  though 
I  noticed  a  sneer  or  an  incredulous  smile  on  the  face 
of  more  than  one.  Major  Northcote  had  sat  down  and 
did  not  seek  to  interrupt  me,  but  looked  at  me  with  his 
old  ironical  smile,  which  now  said  plainly:  "  You  are 
a  boy  and  you  are  not  a  match  for  me  in  the  game  of  in- 
trigue." 

"  What  do  you  say  to  this,  Major  Northcote?  "  asked 
Mr.  Pickering  when  I  had  finished. 

"  A  fabrication,"  he  replied;  "  very  skilfully  and  clev- 
erly done,  I  will  admit,  but  still  a  fabrication.  Ask  him 
if  he  is  not  travelling  in  the  East  in  behalf  of  the  Ameri- 
can Government." 

They  looked  at  me,  and  I  am  afraid  I  reddened  a 
little,  for  I  was  travelling  as  he  said,  though  he  had  in- 
sinuated and  managed  to  put  an  entirely  false  meaning 
upon  my  action. 

"  Certainly,"  I  replied,  "  but  not  as  a  spy  of  the  kind 
you  mean.  If  you  do  not  believe  me,  and  want  to  get 
the  facts  about  Major  Northcote,  send  a  trustworthy  man 
of  your  own  to  Washington  and  let  him  investigate." 

But  my  partial  admission  seemed  to  operate  as  a  proof 
of  guilt. 

"  We  must  request  you  and  your  friends,  Mr.  Mercer 
and  Mr.  Courtenay,  to  withdraw,"  said  Mr.  Pickering. 

"  No  request  is  needed,"  said  Mercer;  "  we  take  great 
pleasure  in  withdrawing,  and  hope  that  we  will  not  be 
contaminated  by  the  company  we  have  inadvertently 
kept.  We  may  not  possess  as  much  wisdom  as  you  gen- 
tlemen, but  we  do  not  give  aid,  comfort,  and  approval 
to  a  known  enemy,  -and  we  hope  never  to  be  the  traitors 
that  you  are." 

They  received  this  little  speech,  made  in  the  legal 
way  that  Mercer  affected  sometimes,  in  dead  silence,  and 


180  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

we  rose,  all  three  of  us,  burning  with  anger  at  the  situ- 
ation in  which  we  had  been  placed. 

"  I  go  with  you,  gentlemen,"  said  Jonathan  Starbuck, 
rising  with  us. 

"  Mr.  Starbuck  was  mistaken  in  his  young  friends," 
said  one  of  the  Federalists,  Tories  rather,  suavely;  "  and 
as  we  all  know  it  was  an  honest  mistake,  we  would  prefer 
for  him  to  stay." 

"  Mr.  Starbuck  was  not  mistaken  in  his  young 
friends,"  said  the  veteran  calmly,  "  but  he  was  mistaken 
in  his  old  friends.  When  I  came  here  I  had  no  idea 
of  the  relationship  Major  Northcote  bore  to  Mr.  Ten 
Broeck,  and  since  I  have  heard  the  tales  of  both  I 
prefer  to  believe  Mr.  Ten  Broeck's.  I  think  you  have 
let  party  feelings  go  too  far,  and  I  will  have  noth- 
ing more  to  do  with  such  plotting  against  the  Govern- 
ment." 

My  heart  warmed  with  a  great  glow  toward  him,  and 
we  stalked  out  of  the  room,  Mr.  Starbuck  at  our  head, 
the  others  saying  nothing,  though  Major  Northcote  fol- 
lowed me  with  his  ironical  look,  now  showing  a  gleam 
of  triumph  also,  but  so  greatly  were  we  upheld  by  the 
companionship  and  approval  of  Mr.  Starbuck  that  we  did 
not  mind,  and  a  little  sense  of  elation  mingled  with  our 
other  feelings. 

We  went  to  our  room,  and  Mr.  Starbuck  followed  us 
there,  showing  plainly  that  he  was  in  great  trouble  of 
mind  and  fearing  that  we  would  blame  him  for  having 
led  us  into  an  unpleasant  trap.  I  did  not  like  to  see  an 
old  man  begging  the  pardon  of  those  who  were  young 
enough  to  be  his  sons,  and  we  disclaimed  any  feeling  of 
offence  against  him  with  all  the  vigour  and  emphasis  at 
our  command.  Thus  talking  we  pacified  him,  and  feel- 
ing in  a  better  humour  with  ourselves  we  four  took  a 
warm  drink  together  and  swore  eternal  loyalty  to  the 
Constitution,  the  republic,  the  only  true  Government 
on  earth,  and  to  the  President  at  Washington,  whoever 


IN  THE  ENEMY'S  CAMP.  181 

he  might  be,  whether  Federalist,  Republican,  or  some- 
thing that  was  neither. 

On  the  morning  of  the  second  day  thereafter  we  had 
the  pleasure  of  reading  of  the  disgraceful  conduct  of 
three  young  men  from  the  West — names  omitted,  in 
Accordance  with  the  custom  of  the  times — at  a  private 
anquet  given  by  some  of  the  most  distinguished  and 
vorthy  men  of  Massachusetts,  where  they  had  called 
their  elders  and  betters  foul  names,  had  abused  the  hon- 
est fame  of  New  England,  and  at  last  had  become  so  tur- 
bulent that  it  was  necessary  to  put  them  out  of  the  room 
with  force.  But  our  names  were  not  there,  and  we  did 
not  care. 

"  Hereafter  I  shall  keep  away  from  banquets,"  said 
Mercer,  "  since  they  bring  one  only  trouble  and  indi- 
gestion." 


CHAPTEE  XV. 

WHAT   WE   SAW   IN   NEW   YORK   BAY. 

THERE  was  no  occasion  for  me  to  linger  in  Boston, 
since  immediately  upon  my  arrival  there  I  had  received 
sufficient  proof  of  the  temper  of  its  leading  men.  The 
old,  invincible  spirit  of  New  England  seemed  to  be  dead, 
and  though  it  was  New  England  who  clamoured  the 
loudest  against  our  wrongs  she  would  refuse  absolutely 
to  try^the  only  cure — war.  Among  the  sailors  and  the 
countrymen  who  came  in  were  many  who  believed  with 
us  of  the  West,  but  their  voices  were  not  heard  in  the 
outcry  of  the  more  powerful  and  wealthy  classes  against 
the  appeal  to  the  sword.  So  I  began  the  return  journey, 
and  Courtenay  and  Mercer  went  with  me.  Wishing  to 
vary  our  experience  we  took  ship  for  New  York,  securing 
passage  on  the  stout  schooner  John  Hancock,  commanded 
by  Captain  Benjamin  Crowell,  a  Maine  man  after  our 
own  hearts. 

We  had  stormy  weather  rounding  Cape  Cod,  and 
Courtenay,  Mercer,  and  I  suffered  much  from  seasick- 
ness, but  in  the  bright  weather  following  we  recovered, 
and  our  discouraged  spirits  rose.  The  voyage  then  be- 
came a  pleasure,  but  I  do  not  think  that  I  would  like  to 
be  a  sailor.  The  land  does  not  slip  from  under  one's  feet. 
We  fell  into  a  calm  lasting  two  days,  but  at  the  end  of 
that  time  a  good  wind  sprang  up,  and,  passing  around 
Long  Island,  we  approached  Sandy  Hook  one  fine  morn- 
ing early  in  May.  We  could  see  already  the  wooded 
coasts  of  New  Jersey,  fresh  with  the  tender  green  of 
182 


WHAT  WE  SAW  IN  NEW  YORK  BAY.          133 

young  foliage,  and  the  fine  haze  beyond  it  which  was  the 
effect  either  of  a  cloud  or  the  smoke  rising  from  the 
many  tall  chimneys  of  distant  New  York.  Before  us 
were  other  ships,  their  white  sails  hovering  on  the  blue 
water.  Above  us  glittered  the  great  globe  of  the  sun. 
Afar  the  fisher  boats  swam  in  a  sea  of  purple  and  azure 
and  gold.  I  was  full  of  joyful  anticipations,  partly  the 
growth  of  youth  and  a  splendid  day.  Moreover,  I  liked 
New  York,  and  I  was  sure  that  Marian  would  be  there. 

But  anxiety  and  suspense  were  putting  wrinkles  and 
crow's  feet  into  the  face  of  Captain  Crowell,  and  I  was 
astonished  at  the  evident  trouble  in  -his  manner,  for  he 
was  not  a  man  who  took  readily  to  grief.  After  some 
hesitation,  since  one  does  not  rashly  address  the  captain 
of  a  ship  on  his  own  deck,  I  asked  him  the  cause. 

He  pointed  a  finger  toward  the  group  of  distant  ships 
ahead  of  us. 

"  We  are  about  to  run  the  blockade,"  he  replied. 
"  An  American  must  do  it,  going  from  port  to  port  of  his 
own  country.  See  the  largest  of  those  ships,  the  one 
near  the  centre." 

I  looked,  knew,  and  remembered;  the  ship  was  the 
Guerriere.  I  could  recognise  her  gleaming  white  and 
gold  prow,  the  French  fashion  of  her  sides  and  rigging; 
and  even  if  these  were  not  sufficient,  there  flew  the  hated 
flag  of  England. 

"  Why,  yours  is  but  a  coasting  schooner  from  Boston 
to  New  York,"  I  said  to  Captain  Crowell  in  reply  to  his 
look. 

"  That  won't  keep  her  from  being  searched,"  he  re- 
plied, "  and  maybe  I  will  lose  two  or  three  of  my  best 
sailors.  We  will  have  to  anchor  alongside  that  con- 
founded British  ship,  under  her  guns,  just  as  if  we  were 
a  prize,  and  stay  there  as  long  as  she  chooses  to  keep  us. 
To  the  devil  with  a  government  that  will  stand  this,  I 
say! " 

Mercer  and  Courtenay  had  joined  us. 


184  A  HERALD  OP  THE  WEST. 

"  Why,  it's  illegal,  contrary  to  all  the  laws  of  na- 
tions," said  Mercer,  the  lawyer. 

"  Which  has  never  kept  it  from  heing  done,  and  noth- 
ing will  keep  it  from  being  done  except  the  twenty-four- 
pounders  of  a  forty-four,  and  that's  the  best  law  I  know 
of,"  replied  the  captain.  "  Let  them  give  our  boys  a 
chance.  Do  you  know  what  they  did  in  the  West  Indies 
when  we  fought  there  with  France,  and  how  we  battered 
up  the  Barbary  corsairs,  though  they  always  had  more 
guns  and  men  than  we?  Give  'em  a  chance,  and  they'll 
teach  that  frigate  yonder  and  others  like  her  what  it  is 
to  fight  with  the  best  men  that  sail  the  sea." 

But  I  belonged  to  the  school  of  Mr.  Jefferson,  who 
believed  that  in  case  of  war  our  little  navy  should  be 
sealed  up  in  port,  or  otherwise  we  would  lose  it.  In  my 
mind  the  majesty  of  England,  backed  by  a  thousand 
war  ships  and  the  memories  of  the  Nile  and  Trafalgar, 
was  supreme  upon  the  sea. 

The  Guerriere  lay  almost  at  the  mouth  of  the  bay. 
What  had  become  of  her  consort,  the  large  frigate,  I  did 
not  know,  though  I  supposed  that  she  was  in  mischief 
wherever  she  might  be.  Around  her  lay  a  little  fleet  of 
American  merchantmen,  two  or  three  from  European 
ports.  All  had  been  searched  by  the  Briton,  or  would 
be,  and,  as  we  supposed  she  would,  she  signalled  for  us  to 
stop,  and  stop  we  did,  since  there  was  no  recourse.  I  was 
familiar  already  with  the  sight  of  the  Guerriere,  and  this 
was  only  another  insult  and  injury  added  to  the  list  we 
owed  to  her  and  the  country  whose  flag  she  carried — 
England. 

A  boat  containing  an  officer  and  half  dozen  men  left 
the  Guerriere  and  pulled  for  us. 

"  Don't  you  know  him?  "  asked  Courtenay,  who  stood 
beside  me. 

"  Know  whom?  " 

"The  English  officer,  the  man  commanding  the 
boat." 


WHAT  WE  SAW  IN  NEW  YORK  BAY.          185 

The  officer  turned  his  face  at  that  moment  and  I 
recognised  Allyn,  the  lieutenant  whose  efforts  to  recap- 
ture the  sailor,  Patterson,  we  had  defeated.  He  was 
coming  now  to  search  the  ship  on  which  we  were  pas- 
sengers, and  I  felt  some  apprehension,  since  the  arrogance 
and  presumption  of  the  British  naval  officers  at  that  time 
passes  the  belief  of  the  present  day,  and  I  knew  that  he 
did  not  like  me,  nor  without  cause  either. 

Captain  Crowell  stood  on  the  deck  to  receive  the 
lieutenant,  his  hands  in  his  pocket,  face  and  manner  sur- 
ly. I  knew  that  he  would  rather  have  met  the  English- 
man cutlass  in  hand,  and  that  here  was  another  in  whom 
dwelled  the  spirit  of  the  Bon  Homme  Richard. 

Allyn  and  four  of  his  men  climbed  upon  the  deck. 
Looking  across  at  the  Guerriere  I  saw  that  we  lay  di- 
rectly under  her  guns,  and  if  she  chose  she  could  blow 
us  into  chips  with  a  single  broadside. 

Allyn  demanded  the  name  of  the  ship  and  her  cap- 
tain. 

"  The  schooner  John  Hancock,  with  a  mixed  cargo 
from  Boston  to  New  York,"  replied  Crowell,  "  and  I  am 
her  captain,  Benjamin  Crowell,  of  Portland,  Maine, 
damn  you! " 

Allyn's  face  flushed  and  he  made  a  gesture  of 
anger. 

"  Oaths  are  out  of  place,  Captain  Crowell/'  he  said, 
"  and  they  may  do  you  harm." 

"  I  happen  to  be  standing  upon  my  own  deck,  in  one 
of  our  own  ports,"  replied  the  captain.  "  My  country 
and  yours  are  not  at  war.  Why  shouldn't  I  pitch  you 
into  the  sea  for  threatening  me?  What  right  have  you 
here?" 

"  There  is  my  right,"  said  Allyn,  turning  and  point- 
ing to  the  guns  of  the  Guerriere. 

"  You  speak  truly,"  I  said,  stepping  forward.  "  That 
is  your  right,  and  your  only  right." 

He  had  not  seen  me  until  then,  but  he  did  not  betray 
13 


186  A  HERALD  OP  THE  WEST. 

any  surprise,  although  his  eye  lighted  up  with  a  gleam 
that  seemed  to  me  marvellously  like  exultation. 

"It  is  you,  is  it,  Ten  Broeck,  my  fine  fellow?"  he 
said,  and  there  was  much  in  his  manner  that  puzzled  me. 

"Yes,  it  is  I,  Mr.  Ten  Broeck,"  I  said,  putting 
emphasis  upon  the  "Mr.,"  and  I  want  to  tell  you, 
Lieutenant  Allyn,  that  you  are  engaged  in  a  monstrous 
business.  You  will  push  the  patience  of  the  American 
Government  too  far." 

"  Impossible,"  he  replied  sneeringly. 

"  Overconfidence  is  as  bad  as  the  lack  of  it,"  I  replied. 

"That's  enough,  Ten  Broeck,"  he  said  in  a  sharp, 
insolent  tone,  as  if  he  were  a  superior  speaking  to  an 
inferior.  "  Captain  Crowell,  I  suspected  that  you  had 
English  sailors  on  board,  and  it  has  proved  to  be  the 
truth.  I  must  take  this  fine,  strapping  fellow,  Ten 
Broeck,  who  deserted  from  the  Leander  two  years  ago. 
Pipe  up  your  crew,  and  let's  see  what  others  you  have. 
Fall  in  there,  Ten  Broeck,  behind  my  men." 

His  look  was  full  of  malignant  triumph,  but  I  be- 
lieved I  could  defeat  his  attempt,  which  was  of  unex- 
ampled audacity.  So  believing,  I  held  myself  in  reserve 
and  the  captain  spoke  first  for  me. 

"  Mr.  Ten  Broeck  is  a  passenger  aboard  my  ship,"  he 
said,  amazed,  as  he  had  a  right  to  be,  at  the  lieutenant's 
words,  "  and  has  been  in  the  service  of  the  Government 
at  Washington,  if  he  is  not  now." 

"  That's  a  specious  tale  that  he  has  told  you,  Cap- 
tain Crowell,"  replied  Allyn  smoothly,  "  and,  of  course, 
you  are  not  to  blame,  but  I  know  him  to  be  a  deserting 
English  sailor  from  the  Leander,  and  he  will  have  to  fill 
out  his  unexpired  time  aboard  the  Guerriere." 

"I  think  not,"  said  Mercer,  stepping  forward,  a 
smile  showing  upon  his  smooth,  thin  face.  "  There  is  a 
law  against  such  things.  Your  attempt  comes  in  con- 
flict with  one  of  the  greatest  principles  of  international 
law." 


WHAT  WE  SAW  IN  NEW  YORK  BAY.          187 

"Law!  international  law!  What  law?"  sneered 
Allyn. 

"  This/'  replied  Mercer,  drawing  a  large  pistol  from 
his  pocket.  "  Lead  and  gunpowder,  which,  as  I  truly 
said,  constitute  the  greatest  principle  in  all  international 
law,  recognised  by  all  civilized  nations." 

"And  this,"  said  Courtenay,  as  he  also  produced  a 
pistol,  "is  another  principle  which  Lord  Coke  and  all 
the  famous  lawyers  accept  as  a  necessary  corollary  of  the 
first." 

"  And  here,"  said  the  captain,  as  he  blew  a  whistle 
and  his  men  rushed  upon  the  deck,  cutlass  in  hand,  "  are 
a  whole  group  of  citations  and  illustrations.  Now,  damn 
you  again,  Mr.  Lieutenant  Allyn,  of  the  Guerriere;  if 
you  try  to  take  anybody  from  my  vessel  you'll  be  the 
first  man  killed.  Your  frigate  there  can  blow  us  to 
pieces,  but  you  and  your  men  here  will  be  dead  before 
we  sink." 

It  was  the  old  Maine  seadog  who  spoke,  the  man  who 
afterward  became  one  of  the  most  daring  and  dangerous 
privateers,  the  captain  who  swept  the  English  Channel 
for  months  at  a  time,  and  his  manner  left  no  doubt  of 
his  intentions.  Around  him  swarmed  the  same  crew 
that  was  with  him  when  he  harried  the  narrow  seas  be- 
tween Britain  and  France.  I  saw  that  Allyn  had  a  task 
that  I  did  not  envy  him,  and  no  words  were  needed 
from  me.  Still  I  could  not  refrain  from  saying: 

"  I  think  it  would  be  better  to  postpone  the  question 
of  my  nationality." 

He  looked  at  us  and  he  looked  at  his  ship,  and  then 
lie  departed  without  any  threat  in  words,  though  his  eyes 
were  full  of  them.  Whether  he  expected  to  keep  me,  in 
good  truth,  a  sailor  on  board  the  Guerriere,  I  do  not 
know,  but  he  was  wild  with  hate  of  me,  and  must  have 
been  willing  to  do  any  mad  thing,  knowing,  moreover, 
that  John  Pechell,  then  captain  on  board  the  Guerriere, 
was  ready  for  any  act  of  audacity  or  barbarity. 


188  A  HERALD  OP  THE  WEST. 

While  the  boat  was  returning  to  the  Guerriere  Cap- 
tain Crowell  sailed  on,  being  anxious  to  escape  from 
under  the  guns  of  the  Guerriere,  as  he  feared  that  the 
frigate  might  give  him  a  broadside  when  Allyn  went  on 
board  and  told  his  tale. 

"  I  thank  you,  friends/'  I  said  to  Mercer  and  Courte- 
nay,  "for  the  splendid  briefs  you  filed  in  my  case,  and 
you,  too,  captain,  for  the  illustrations  and  citations  which 
you  presented  in  most  timely  fashion." 

When  I  looked  at  Mercer  I  remembered  his  saying 
once  that  I  was  a  fortunate  man.  Truly  I  was  fortunate 
in  my  friends,  and  he  was  not  the  least  among  them, 
when  perhaps  I  had  no  right  to  expect  it. 

We  were  still  standing  on  the  deck,  and  the  captain 
was  looking  back  at  the  Guerriere. 

"  I  hope  the  case  is  concluded,"  he  replied,  "  but  I'm 
afraid  it  isn't.  No,  by  heavens,  it's  not!  The  Guerriere 
is  following  us! " 

The  white  and  gold  prow  of  the  frigate  was  turned 
toward  us,  and  she  was  following  in  our  wake  into  the 
bay,  as  if  she  would  catch  us  before  we  could  reach  the 
peaceful  town  which  lay  beyond.  There  was  much  ship- 
ping about,  and  directly  ahead  of  us  sailed  a  sightly 
Yankee  brig,  on  which  I  read  the  name  Spitfire. 

"  A  Portland  craft,"  said  Crowell;  "  I  know  her,  her 
captain  and  every  man  aboard  her;  I've  raced  with  her 
many  a  time." 

But  he  gave  the  Spitfire  only  a  single  glance,  keeping* 
his  eyes  afterward  on  the  Guerriere,  the  trouble  in  his 
face  growing. 

"  Surely  she  can  not  mean  to  bring  us  to  with  a 
broadside  in  the  bay  itself,"  he  said.  "  I  don't  see  how 
we  could  escape  a  war  after  that.  But  the  war  would  be 
cheap  at  the  price.  The  John  Hancock  could  stand  more 
than  one  broadside  even  from  a  thirty-eight." 

His  fierce  old  face  lighted  up  with  joy.  Like  many 
another,  he  wished  so  much  for  war  that  he  was  ready 


WHAT  WE  SAW  IN  NEW  YORK  BAY.          189 

to  pay  a  heavy  penalty  himself  if  we  could  only 
have  it. 

We  were  inside  the  bay  now,  bearing  toward  the  Nar- 
rows, and  the  Guerriere  entering  also  was  in  closed 
waters,  wholly  American.  She  seemed  bound  to  have 
us,  be  the  consequences  what  they  might,  but  suddenly 
she  shifted  her  course  and  bore  up  to  the  Portland  brig, 
the  Spitfire. 

"  We're  not  her  game;  it's  the  Spitfire,"  said  Crow- 
ell,  noting  the  change.  "  What  new  mischief  is  the 
Guerriere  after?  We'll  shift  our  course  too  and  see." 

The  Guerriere  had  ordered  the  Spitfire  to  lay  to,  and 
the  brig  had  no  choice  but  to  obey.  A  boat's  crew  were 
sent  aboard  her  as  in  our  case,  and  the  crew  were  mus- 
tered on  deck,  while  the  officer,  not  Allyn  this  time,  ques- 
tioned them.  We  could  see  it  all  plainly,  we  lay  so  close, 
and  we  watched  with  eager  interest,  for  the  harbour  had 
been  safe,  at  least  for  a  long  time.  Other  ships  and  boats 
drew  near,  attracted  as  we  were,  and  they  hung  in  a  circle 
around  the  frigate  and  her  prey.  Captain  Crowell  stood 
at  the  rail  looking  through  a  pair  of  strong  glasses.  It 
was  evident  that  the  captain  of  the  Spitfire  was  of  a 
different  stock  from  the  captain  of  the  John  Hancock, 
since  we  could  see  no  signs  of  resistance  or  even  of  ener- 
getic protest  on  board  the  brig. 

"  They  are  all  in  line  like  so  many  sheep,"  said  Crow- 
ell  in  a  voice  permeated  with  disgust. 

"What  are  the  British  doing?"  I  asked,  though  I 
could  see. 

"  Calling  the  roll,  I  suppose,  and  asking  them  ques- 
tions which  they  have  no  right  to  ask,  and  no  American 
any  right  to  answer." 

"  Are  they  taking  any  of  the  sailors?  " 

"  No,  but  they  are  taking  that  man  who  stands  to  one 
side,  a  passenger,  too,  by  God!  and  I  know  him — John 
Deguyo,  of  my  own  town  of  Portland,  who  is  not  and 
never  was  a  sailor.  They've  begun  to  impress  landsmen 


190  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

now;  they'll  take  the  President  himself  if  they  get  a 
chance." 

I  was  witnessing  a  historic  scene  of  violence  and  out- 
rage, a  piece  of  unpardonable  effrontery,  but  save  for  the 
deck  of  the  Spitfire  the  day  was  as  peaceful  and  benevo- 
lent as  a  brilliant  May  day  should  be.  Before  us  were 
the  wooded  hills  of  Staten  Island,  the  smoke  rising  in 
lazy  coils  from  the  chimneys  of  the  farm  houses.  Some- 
times their  windows  caught  the  sunlight,  and  they  shone 
as  if  made  of  beaten  gold.  The  waters  of  the  bay  rippled 
before  a  gentle  breeze,  and  off  toward  the  low  Jersey 
shore  it  was  a  shimmering  sea  of  blue  and  silver  and 
green. 

The  man,  Deguyo,  struggled  a  little,  but  two  of  the 
men-o'-warsmen  seized  him,  and  he  ceased  to  resist,  going 
quietly  with  his  captors  to  the  boat,  and  thence  to  the 
Guerriere.  Then  the  frigate  changed  her  course  again, 
and  passed  out  of  the  harbour  with  her  victim. 

"  If  the  American  Government  stands  this,"  said 
Courtenay,  "  I  shall  become  a  citizen  of  Turkey,  or  some 
other  barbaric  country  where  they  are  not  too  good  to 

fight." 

"  I  hope  it  will  not  be  necessary  for  us  to  lose  you," 
I  said. 

Mercer  was  silent. 

We  landed,  and,  with  Captain  Crowell,  spread  the 
news,  which  was  known  already  in  a  vague  way,  but  we 
gave  the  facts,  and  it  was  a  joy  to  me  to  see  the  flame  rise 
among  the  sailors  and  the  longshoremen  and  the  day 
workers,  who,  having  no  property  at  stake  and  no  blind 
belief  in  the  virtue  of  manners,  had  a  truer  sense  of  the 
honour  and  dignity  of  their  country  than  those  who  lived 
in  the  fine  houses  on  Canal  Street. 

Leaving  the  fire  to  feed  itself  and  to  spread,  which  it 
was  sure  to  do,  I  hastened  to  Fraunce's  Tavern,  where  I 
hoped  that  Marian  and  her  father  were  still  staying. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

BEFORE   THE   PRESIDENT   AGAIN. 

A  VAGUE  plan  had  taken  me  in  such  a  hurry  to 
Fraunce's  Tavern,  and  on  my  way  I  tried  to  think  out  its 
details,  though  I  could  not  make  them  fit  into  each 
other  quite  to  my  satisfaction.  I  suppose  that  some  peo- 
ple were  surprised  at  the  appearance  of  a  large  young 
man  striding  so  rapidly  through  the  streets,  and  I 
brushed  roughly  against  two  or  three,  but  I  had  time  to 
spare  only  for  a  hasty  apology  and  no  explanations. 
When  I  asked  at  the  tavern  if  Oyrus  Pendleton  and  his 
daughter,  Miss  Pendleton,  were  still  there  I  was  informed 
that  they  were,  and,  to  my  joy,  that  Miss  Pendleton  at 
that  moment  was  in  the  house. 

I  sent  to  Marian  a  request  that  I  might  see  her,  and 
she  came  down  at  once  to  the  tavern  parlour,  tall  and 
beautiful,  ruddy  with  strength  and  health. 

"Why,  Philip!"  she  exclaimed.  "Have  the  Puri- 
tans driven  you  out  of  Boston  so  soon?  " 

Then  she  noticed  the  excitement  in  my  face  and 
added: 

"What  has  happened?     What  have  you  seen?" 

I  told  her  as  quickly  and  as  succinctly  as  I  could  of 
the  scene  that  I  had  witnessed  in  the  harbour,  passing 
lightly  over  the  attack  upon  myself  and  describing  the 
anger  and  excitement  it  was  creating  in  the  city.  Her 
face  became  pale. 

"  It  seems  to  me  to  be  just  cause  for  war,"  I  said, 
"and  if  we  don't  fight  for  this  we'll  have  to  fight  for 

191 


192  A  HERALD  OP  THE  WEST. 

something  worse  later  on.  I  wish  to  go  to  Washington 
at  once  and  carry  the  first  news  of  it  to  the  President  and 
his  Cahinet;  all  I  want  is  a  good  excuse  for  going." 

"And  tell  them  everything,  Philip/'  she  cried,  her 
eyes  flashing  and  a  flush  replacing  the  pallor  of  her  face. 
"  Tell  them  if  we  do  not  fight  we  are  cowards  and  worse, 
and  do  not  deserve  to  he  a  nation!  Tell  them  if  we  don't 
fight  we  won't  be  one  much  longer!  Tell  them  if  the 
men  won't  fight,  the  women  will! " 

She  had  risen  up  and  stood  before  me,  the  red  of  ex- 
citement and  indignation  dyeing  her  cheeks  and  even 
her  brow,  her  eyes  flashing  with  a  spirit  which  the 
women  of  our  country  will  never  lose.  I  had  never 
seen  her  look  more  glorious,  so  full  was  she  of  fire  and 
passion,  but  I  was  hardly  qualified  for  the  role  which  in 
her  excitement  she  called  upon  me  to  play. 

"I  don't  think  I'll  say  those  things,  however  true 
they  may  be,  to  President  Madison  and  his  Cabinet,  at 
least  not  in  that  way,  Marian,"  I  said.  "  I  guess  I'd 
better  be  polite  to  the  President." 

She  laughed  and  coloured  a  little,  and  protested  that 
she  did  not  mean  exactly  that,  and  asked  me  to  tell  it 
all  over  again,  which  I  did  without  diminishing  in  any 
way  the  sinister  brutality  of  the  details,  and  while  we 
were  yet  talking  Cyrus  Pendleton  came  in  raging,  his 
Indian-like  face  making  me  think  of  what  a  great  chief's 
ought  to  be  in  the  fury  of  a  desperate  battle.  In  his 
wrath  he  had  forgotten  his  dislike  of  seeing  me  with 
Marian. 

"  Have  you  heard  of  this,  Phil?  "  he  asked  in  a  loud 
angry  voice,  never  saying  what  the  "  this  "  was. 

"  Yes,  I  brought  the  news  of  it,"  I  replied,  knowing 
well  what  he  meant,  his  excitement  soothing  and  calming 
my  own. 

"  Phil,  we  can't  stand  this!  " 

"No,  we  can't  stand  it!" 

"  The  Government  must  fight." 


BEFORE  THE  PRESIDENT  AGAIN.  193 

"I  want  to  carry  the  news,  while  it's  hot,  to  "Wash- 
ington." 

He  looked  at  me  with  approval. 

"  Then  you  are  the  right  man  come  at  the  right 
time,"  he  said.  "  Lieutenant-Governor'  Clinton  is  here. 
He  and  the  mayor  are  talking  about  this  outrage,  and 
they  are  agreed  that  the  national  Government  should 
be  informed  at  once.  Come  with  me,  and  you  shall  be 
their  messenger." 

Bidding  Marian  a  hasty  adieu,  I  hurried  with  him  to 
the  City  Hall,  and  on  the  way  noticed  that  the  public 
uproar  and  excitement  were  increasing.  The  populace, 
always  ready  to  resent  a  national  affront,  would  not 
stand  this  latest  outrage,  and  was  crying  for  retaliation. 
British  officers  on  shore  had  fled  to  their  ships  for  safety, 
and  it  is  only  just  to  say  that  some  of  them  were  ashamed 
of  their  country's  overbearing  insolence  and  reckless 
guilt,  qualities  which  Great  Britain  seemed  then  to  have 
concentrated  against  us. 

I  was  introduced  to  the  mayor  and  Mr.  Clinton  by 
Mr.  Pendleton,  whose  word  carried  weight,  and  as  I 
could  show,  moreover,  that  I  had  been  employed  in  Mr. 
Gallatin's  office  it  was  no  trouble  for  me  to  secure  the 
transmission  of  the  despatches.  In  truth,  I  seemed,  as 
Mr.  Pendleton  said,  to  be  the  right  man  come  at  the 
right  time.  The  letters  were  made  ready  at  once,  in- 
trusted to  me  in  a  sealed  package  directed  to  the  Presi- 
dent, and  I  departed,  with  their  injunction  to  hasten  to 
Washington  and  beware  of  mischances. 

In  the  streets  again  I  found  that  the  excitement  had 
not  been  allayed;  on  the  contrary,  the  tumult  was  in- 
creasing, and  a  crowd  of  men  shaking  sticks  were  singing 
patriotic  songs  and  shouting,  "  Down  with  Britain! " 
If  the  men  in  the  street  had  possessed  the  power  the 
Guerriere  would  have  been  blown  into  splinters  with- 
in the  next  five  minutes.  Some  of  the  merchants 
were  closing  their  stores,  and  the  people  in  carriages 


194:  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

were  hastening  away  as  if  they  would  escape  from  a 
mob. 

At  Fraunce's  Tavern  I  found  Mercer  and  Courtenay, 
and  I  told  them  of  my  mission,  which  both  envied  me. 

"  You  have  sealed  despatches  telling  all  about  it, 
have  you  not  ?  "  asked  Mercer. 

"  Yes." 

"  Give  your  own  account  too;  make  it  strong,  it's  not 
illegal." 

Clearly  it  was  not  "  illegal "  for  me  to  tell  a  few 
words  if  I  were  asked,  and  I  promised  Mercer  if  I  had  the 
chance  to  do  my  best.  I  was  just  leaving  them  when  I 
ran  into  Bidwell,  laced,  powdered,  and  perfumed  in  the 
extremest  New  York  style,  as  if  he  were  that  little  exotic 
Van  Steenkerk  himself. 

"Why  such  a  hurry,  Ten  Broeck?  "  he  asked.  "What 
is  the  matter?" 

"  Don't  you  hear  them  out  there  in  the  street,  Bid- 
well,  crying  for  war?  I'm  going  to  Washington  as  fast 
as  I  can  to  declare  it  for  them.  Good-bye." 

I  left  him  staring  at  me. 

I  had  plenty  of  money  and  I  hired  one  of  the  best 
horses  I  could  find,  riding  him  to  Philadelphia,  where  I 
changed  him  for  another  as  good,  and  thus  changing 
horses  at  suitable  intervals  I  continued  my  swift  journey 
southward.  I  wag  in  the  full  glory  of  spring  now,  not 
in  its  beginning.  It  was  all  around  me,  it  breathed  in 
the  balmy  breezes  from  the  south.  The  old  world,  burst- 
ing into  bloom,  was  turning  into  a  mass  of  pink  and 
green — pink  on  the  buds,  green  on  the  leaves  and  grass — 
and  the  sunshine  was  full  of  basking  warmth.  Spring 
and  summer  pay  little  heed  to  war  or  peace,  thought  I, 
as  I  gallopecl  on. 

After  a  ride  of  three  days  and  a  half,  or  on  the  morn- 
ing of  the  fourth  day,  I  reached  Washington.  I  saw 
afar  the  white  walls  of  the  Capitol,  the  sunlight  blazing 
upon  them,  and  the  lazy  little  town  snuggling  in  the 


BEFORE  THE  PRESIDENT  AGAIN.  195 

green  of  the  wilderness.  The  silver  ribbon  of  the  Po- 
tomac gleamed  as  of  old,  and  there  again  was  a  line  of 
wild  ducks  flying  northward,  painted  against  the  blue 
sky  like  a  long  black  arrow.  A  negro,  sitting  sideways 
on  his  mule,  was  riding  slowly  to  his  plowing,  a  boatman 
floated  sleepily  with  the  current  of  the  river,  and  the 
town,  like  the  plowman  and  the  boatman,  seemed  asleep 
and  dreaming. 

I  rode  to  my  old  boarding  house,  ate  a  hasty  lunch- 
eon, not  explaining  to  my  astonished  landlady  why  I  had 
returned  so  much  sooner  than  she  expected  me,  and  then 
walked  over  to  the  Treasury  building.  I  entered  as  one 
who  knew  the  way  and  had  the  right,  and  beheld  the 
back  of  Mr.  Gallatin's  head  shining  at  me  like  a  sun. 
He  was  bending  over  his  desk,  and  the  heaps  of  papers 
surged  around  him.  My  tread,  as  I  approached,  did  not 
arouse  him,  and  I  was  forced  to  put  my  hand  upon  his 
shoulder  and  say: 

"Mr.  Gallatin!" 

He  looked  up  with  the  customary  start  of  one  who  is 
aroused  from  absorption. 

"  Mr.  Ten  Broeck,"  he  said,  "  I  thought  I  had  sent 
you  to  the  North!" 

"  So  you  did,  Mr.  Gallatin.  And  1  went;  I  did  the 
work  you  sent  me  to  do,  and  I  return  in  haste  with  news." 

He  looked  at  me  with  curiosity  and  some  apprehen- 
sion too,  as  my  manner  undoubtedly  showed  excitement. 
It  is  a  fact  that  in  the  years  just  before  1812  no  Ameri- 
can statesman  expected  any  news  but  bad  news. 

"  I  have  this  package,  addressed  to  the  President,"  I 
said,  producing  it,  "  and  it  is  from  the  mayor  of  the  city 
of  New  York.  I  give  it  to  you  for  him." 

"  But  you  know  very  well  what  it  contains,"  he  said, 
taking  the  package,  but  still  looking  at  me  closely. 
"  Your  face  shows  that.  Tell  me  what  it  is,  if  it  is  not 
wrong  to  do  so." 

There  was  certainly  nothing  wrong  in  my  telling,  and 


196  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

I  told,  setting  forth  the  incidents  with  all  the  descriptive 
power  at  my  command.  He  sighed,  and  the  look  of 
trouble  on  his  face  grew,  digging  great  seams  about  his 
mouth  and  eyes  and  doubling  the  wrinkles. 

"  I  suppose  they'll  come  into  the  inner  harbour  of 
New  York  next  and  bombard  the  town  because  we  don't 
like  them,"  he  said.  "  They  did  worse  at  Copenhagen. 
I  suppose  we'll  have  to  fight  after  all.  This  thing  of 
founding  a  nation  is  a  difficult  task,  Philip,  my  son.  But 
you  have  done  well  to  come  with  your  budget.  I  shall 
show  this  to  the  President  at  his  house  to-night,  and  it 
may  be  that  we  will  want  you  there,  as  you  were  an  eye- 
witness of  the  facts.  If  so,  I  will  send  word  to  you  at 
your  room  in  the  afternoon." 

Then  he  questioned  me  long  and  carefully  about  the 
direct  object  of  my  visit  to  the  Northern  and  Eastern 
cities,  and  when  I  left  his  office  I  felt  that  glow  which 
comes  to  one  who  has  received  the  approval  of  his  elders 
and  betters. 

I  hastened  back  to  my  room,  and  lying  down  on  the 
bed  slept  soundly  until  a  messenger  arrived  with  a  sum- 
mons for  me  to  come  to  the  White  House.  It  was  evi- 
dent that  both  Mr.  Gallatin  and  the  President  were  im- 
pressed, as  the  former  had  not  waited  until  night  to  de- 
liver the  despatches,  and  the  latter,  with  equal  prompti- 
tude, had  called  a  Cabinet  meeting  in  the  afternoon.  I 
found  myself  in  the  presence  of  the  entire  Cabinet  for 
the  second  time  in  my  life,  and  was  asked  to  tell  my 
story  again,  which  I  did,  arraying  my  facts  in  what  I 
thought  to  be  the  most  impressive  sequence.  They  asked 
me  over  and  over  about  certain  details,  but  I  had  fixed 
them  in  my  mind,  and  was  ready  always  with  the  an- 
swer. Then  they  let  me  go,  thanking  me  and  telling 
me  that  I  would  be  notified  if  they  wished  to  obtain  from 
me  further  information  on  those  points. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE   FIRST   MESSAGE   FROM   THE   WEST. 

I  WAITED  for  a  day  or  two  and  heard  nothing — that 
is,  nothing  that  I  wanted  to  hear,  thinking  that  the 
time  had  come  now  when  the  Government  must  take 
the  risks  of  war,  however  great  they  might  be — but  I 
learned  that  the  new  British  minister,  Mr.  Foster,  a  man 
of  amiable  temper,  from  whom  an  effort  to  make  us  some 
reparation  for  old  wrongs  was  expected,  would  be  due 
in  a  few  days  in  Washington,  and  on  such  account  the 
Government  regarded  the  impressment  of  Deguyo  as 
most  untoward.  The  news  of  the  affair  was  soon  known 
all  over  Washington,  and  while  the  Government  waited 
the  population  was  in  a  rage,  and  the  French  minister, 
profiting  by  the  opportunity,  egged  them  on,  and  wished 
to  know,  whenever  he  met  Americans,  whether  they  in- 
tended to  become  the  servile  subjects  of  England.  I 
confess  that  I  assisted  somewhat  in  the  egging  process, 
and,  moreover,  I  received  a  letter  from  Cyrus  Pendleton, 
trusting  that  I  had  arrived  in  safety  and  that  the  truth 
had  lost  none  of  its  bitterness  in  my  telling. 

I  had  begun  to  think  that  this  outrage,  like  all  the 
others,  would  be  passed  over,  if  not  forgiven,  when  I 
received  a  message  from  Mr.  Gallatin  to  visit  him  at  his 
office. 

"It  seems  that  you  are  to  become  our  regular  mes- 
senger, Philip,  through  the  process  of  circumstances,"  he 
said,  coming  at  once  to  the  matter  in  hand,  "  and  the 
President  has  another  message  for  you.  Don't  think 

197 


198  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

that  we  have  forgotten  or  wish  to  forget  that  affair  which 
you  saw  in  New  York  Bay.  Listen!  Our  frigate,  the 
President,  is  lying  off  Fort  Severn,  at  Annapolis.  You 
are  to  go  to  her,  and  here  is  a  letter  which  you  will  de- 
liver to  her  captain,  John  Rodgers.  It  orders  him  to  go 
to  sea  at  once,  and  cruise  up  and  down  the  coast  for  the 
protection  of  American  commerce,  which  is  preyed  upon 
by  both  England  and  France  as  if  we  were  enemies, 
though  we  are  at  war  with  neither.  That  is  a  very  sim- 
ple message,  isn't  it?" 

"Yes,"  I  said,  guessing  his  meaning  by  his  look, 
"  but  Captain  Rodgers  might  ask  me  questions." 

"  That  is  so,"  he  replied,  "  and  there  is  something  I 
may  tell  you,  and  I  know  no  reason  that  will  keep  you 
from  telling  it  to  others.  The  Guerriere,  after  impress- 
ing Deguyo,  is  reported  to  have  gone  southward  from 
New  York;  and  if  Captain  Rodgers  should  ask  you,  you 
might  tell  him  about  all  these  things,  and  add,  too,  that 
in  case  he  falls  in  with  the  Guerriere  the  President  trusts 
in  his  ability  to  present  Captain  Pechell  strong  arguments 
showing  why  Deguyo  should  be  released  at  once." 

His  look  was  full  of  meaning,  and  I  understood. 
Again  I  resolved  that  the  facts  in  a  message  which  I 
bore  should  not  suffer  from  diminution  when  I  came  to 
explain  them  by  word  of  mouth.  I  said  to  myself,  with 
a  little  inward  laugh,  half  pride,  half  ridicule  of  myself, 
that  if  it  were  necessary  for  me,  single-handed,  to  bring 
on  a  declaration  of  war  against  Great  Britain,  I  would 
do  it. 

I  mounted  my  horse,  and  again  rode  away  into  the 
blossoming  country,  this  time  through  a  sleepy  part  of 
old  Maryland  to  the  dreaming  little  town  of  Annapolis. 
The  frigate,  the  President,  lying  off  Fort  Severn,  seemed 
to  be  the  biggest  thing  in  the  town  or  vicinity,  and  though 
a  landsman  myself  I  admired  her  size  and  symmetry,  the 
vast  and  intricate  tracery  of  masts  and  spars,  and  the 
shining  whiteness  of  her  decks.  But,  despite  all  this, 


THE  FIRST  MESSAGE  FROM  THE  WEST.       199 

she  too  seemed  to  share  in  the  general  slumber  and  peace 
of  the  place,  as  if,  man-of-war  though  she  was,  it  was 
not  intended  or  expected  that  she  should  ever  fight. 
My  impression  of  unreadiness  was  confirmed  when  I 
went  on  board  and  was  forced  to  deliver  the  President's 
letter  to  a  lieutenant.  I  found  the  ship  almost  stripped 
of  her  officers — Captain  Rodgers  was  with  friends  at 
Havre  de  Grace,  the  chaplain  and  the  purser  were  in 
that  Washington  which  I  had  just  left,  and  the  sailing 
master  was  in  Baltimore. 

But  the  lieutenant  who  received  my  letter,  and  who 
did  not  dare  to  open  it  in  the  absence  of  the  captain,  was 
a  young  man,  aflame  with  zeal  and  enthusiasm,  and,  re- 
membering that  there  was  no  harm  in  telling  him  why 
I  came,  I  told  him  everything,  and  he,  with  equal  promp- 
titude, sent  off  messengers  to  all  the  missing  officers,  bid- 
ding them  come  at  once  on  business  of  the  utmost  im- 
portance to  the  country.  I  stayed  to  see  the  officers  ar- 
rive and  the  ship  depart,  feeling  that  my  mission  would 
not  be  complete  until  then. 

That  lieutenant  was  a  fine  fellow,  and  I  shall  always 
remember  him  with  pleasure,  for  he  asked  me  to  the  cabin, 
where  we  drank  wine  together,  and  then  he  took  me 
about  the  ship,  explaining  the  use  of  this  and  the  use  of 
that,  which  I  remembered  about  three  minutes,  and  say- 
ing over  and  over  that  he  hoped  the  captain  would  come 
soon.  Thus  we  talked  and  walked  while  the  day  passed 
and  the  shining  red  globe  of  the  sun  slipped  out  of  sight 
behind  the  western  hills  and  the  twilight  fell,  and  after 
that  the  night.  Far  in  the  darkness  came  Captain  Rod- 
gers,  furious  because  he  was  away  from  his  ship  when 
such  a  message  had  been  sent  to  him,  though  it  was  not 
his  fault,  since  our  little  navy  had  been  taught  to  expect 
no  such  errands.  Before  midnight  all  the  others  arrived 
also,  and  Captain  Rodgers  said  to  me,  as  I  still  stood 
on  his  deck: 

"  This  frigate  sails  at  daylight,  Mr.  Ten  Broeck,  and 


200  A  HERALD  OP  THE  WEST. 

I  thank  you  for  the  able  manner  in  which  you  have  ex- 
plained the  President's  letter.  But  you  had  better  go 
ashore  now  and  seek  a  night's  sleep;  you'll  find  a  fair 
tavern  in  the  town." 

"Fm  not  sleepy  at  all,"  I  said;  "and,  moreover,  I 
can  not  consider  my  duty  fully  done  until  I  see  the  ship 
sail." 

"  I'm  sorry  to  say  it,  but  I'm  afraid  a  landsman  will 
be  in  the  way  here." 

"  I  must  stay;  my  duty  commands  it!  " 

He  said  no  more,  but  left  me  there,  and  by  the  light 
of  the  lanterns  I  watched  with  the  deepest  interest  the 
busy  scene  around  me:  the  preparations  to  sail,  the  pack- 
ing of  stores,  the  measuring  of  ammunition,  the  noiseless 
step  of  the  sailors  as  they  slipped  about  in  their  bare 
feet,  and  the  fine  discipline  of  all — the  ready  and  decisive 
commands  of  the  officers,  and  the  quickness  and  skill 
of  the  sailors  in  obedience.  Landsman  as  I  was,  I  could 
see  that  the  captain  would  keep  his  word  and  depart  at 
daylight. 

I  walked  about  on  the  decks  watching  this — to  me — 
curious  spectacle  of  a  man-of-war  preparing  in  haste  to 
sail.  The  night  was  dark,  clouds  sailing  past  the  moon 
and  hiding  its  face.  Ship  and  men,  water  and  shore 
swam  in  a  ghostly  light,  which  turned  substance  into 
unreality.  The  sails,  shapeless  gray  clouds,  quivered 
above  me.  Masts  and  spars  ran  away,  dim  black  lines, 
and  where  they  ended  in  the  darkness  I  could  not  see. 
The  sailors  slid  past  me  with  soundless  tread,  phantoms 
themselves.  The  cannon,  the  twenty-four-pounders 
and  the  eighteens,  grew  larger  and  more  threatening  in 
the  faint  light,  and  the  old  story  of  the  Flying  Dutch- 
man came  back  to  me  with  marvellous  distinctness. 
Here  was  I  on  a  phantom  ship  with  a  phantom  crew,  a 
phantom  myself. 

"Better  go  ashore,  Mr.  Ten  Broeck;  it  will  not  be 
long  until  we  see  daylight." 


THE  FIRST  MESSAGE  FROM  THE  WEST.       201 

It  was  Captain  Kodgers  again,  giving  me  fatherly  ad- 
vice which  I  rejected,  as  one  usually  does. 

"  Captain,"  I  said,  "  I  have  stayed  up  a  whole  night 
without  sleep  more  than  once  in  my  life,  and  I  must 
see  this  ship  sail;  I  feel  that  the  whole  responsibility  of 
it  rests  upon  me." 

"  Very  well,"  he  said,  "  if  you  take  that  view  of  it. 
I  suppose  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  this  ship  and  her 
business." 

I  could  see  him  smiling  through  the  dusk  as  he 
passed  on.  I  stayed  where  I  was,  and  occasionally  a 
sailor  looked  curiously  at  the  civilian  standing  there,  so 
much  out  of  place,  but  none  spoke.  The  lieutenant 
who  had  received  me  on  board  the  ship  gave  me  a  friend- 
ly glance  as  he  hurried  by,  and  I  strolled  presently  to 
the  rail  and  looked  over  at  the  dark  water,  mottled 
now  with  faint  moonbeams  and  lapping  softly  against  the 
ship's  side.  Around  me  the  noises  of  departure  went  on 
without  ceasing.  The  sails  rustled  as  they  puffed  out 
with  the  wind,  masts  and  spars  creaked,  and  the  ship 
began  to  groan  as  she  shook  up  her  big  body.  In  the 
East  a  gray  light  was  coming,  and  down  where  the  edge 
of  it  touched  the  earth  a  line  of  pink  shone. 

"Mr.  Ten  Broeck,  the  day  is  at  hand  and  we  are 
about  to  sail;  it  is  time  for  you  to  go  ashore." 

It  was  Captain  Eodgers  warning  me  for  the  third 
time  to  leave  the  ship. 

"  I  must  see  the  frigate  when  she  sails,  not  merely 
when  she  is  ready  to  sail.  My  duty,  captain,  don't  let 
me  forget  that." 

He  passed  on,  and  the  light  of  day  increased.  The 
gray  belt  in  the  east  broadened,  the  pink  edge  of  it  grew 
and  turned  to  red.  Over  the  waters  a  silver  radiance  fell. 
Shore,  fort,  and  fields  swam  up  from  the  sea  of  dusk. 
The  great  ship  heaved,  and  the  water  hissed  against 
her  sides. 

"Mr.  Ten  Broeck,  the  ship  is  moving,  and  it  is  too 
14 


202  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

late  for  you  to  go  ashore;  I  am  very  sorry,  but  it  was 
your  own  fault." 

"  Captain,  I  can  stand  it,  and  I  admit  that  it  was  my 
own  fault  wholly." 

"  Come  with  me  to  my  cabin,  Mr.  Ten  Broeck,  and 
let  us  drink  to  the  success  of  this  cruise  for  the  protec- 
tion of  American  merchantmen." 

We  drank  the  wine  together  with  the  greatest  good 
will,  and  then,  at  the  captain's  suggestion,  I  lay  down 
upon  a  lounge  and  slept  off  the  chagrin  of  my  unavoid- 
able impressment  by  a  ship  of  my  own  country. 

When  I  awoke  a  sailor  was  pulling  at  my  shoulder 
and  bidding  me  prepare  for  luncheon  with  the  officers. 
The  frigate  was  swaying  gently  with  the  sweep  of  the 
water,  and  I  felt  none  of  those  qualms  which  had  as- 
sailed me  on  the  voyage  from  Boston  to  New  York.  I 
went  upon  deck  and  saw  a  world  shimmering  in  the 
sunlight,  a  sky  of  silky  blue  studded  with  little  white 
clouds  like  bits  of  lamb's  wool,  and  an  atmosphere  clear, 
radiant,  and  bracing.  A  fine  wind  sang  through  the 
rigging,  and  the  sailors  on  deck  took  up  the  strain  and 
carried  it  on.  The  great  ship  was  alive,  and  her  timbers 
caught  the  tune  from  wind  and  sailors  and  murmured 
it  in  a  softened  undertone. 

I  took  my  luncheon  with  the  junior  officers,  and  I 
am  sure  that  I  was  welcome.  I  liked  those  young  fel- 
lows, healthy  of  body  and  mind,  and  I  began  to  see  that 
we  had  not  appreciated  our  ridiculed  little  navy  at  its 
true  worth.  It  was  evident  from  the  first  that  here  were 
men  who  knew  their  business  to  the  last  detail,  and, 
falling  in  with  their  spirit,  I  began  now  to  believe  that, 
man  for  man  and  ship  for  ship,  the  Yankee  tar  had  noth- 
ing to  fear  from  anybody. 

"  Captain,"  I  said  some  time  afterward  on  the  deck, 
"  suppose  we  should  fall  in  with  the  Guerriere,  what 
would  you  do  about  the  man  Deguyo?  " 

"Well,"  he  said,  with  much  deliberation,  "I  don't 


THE  FIRST  MESSAGE  FROM  THE  WEST.       203 

know  that  you  have  any  right  to  ask  that  question,  Mr. 
Ten  Broeck;  but  if  we  should  meet  the  Guerriere  I  hope 
that  I  may  prevail  upon  her  commander  to  release  the 
impressed  young  man." 

We  passed  out  into  the  open  sea,  and  beat  about  with- 
out any  definite  purpose.  We  had  a  touch  or  two  of 
rough  weather,  and  I  felt  some  qualms,  but  I  soon  re- 
covered, and  a  pert  midshipmite  told  me  that  he  thought 
with  ten  or  fifteen  years'  experience  I  might  make  a  fair 
sailor. 

I  saw  that  my  presence  aboard  the  ship  did  not  worry 
the  officers,  nor  did  it  worry  me.  I  thought  that  Wash- 
ington could  get  along  very  well  in  my  absence,  and 
if  any  one  should  happen  to  complain  I  could  point  to 
the  accidental  nature  of  my  voyage.  Thus  reasoning, 
I  was  happy  and  enjoyed  the  voyage,  the  crisp  air  of 
the  sea,  the  comradeship  of  those  men  who  had  noth- 
ing to  do  with  politics  or  its  mazes,  and  the  hope  that 
something  which  we  would  not  regret  was  going  to 
happen. 

But  as  day  after  day  passed  and  we  saw  only  mer- 
chantmen that  knew  no  news,  and  the  wide  blaze  of  the 
trackless  sea,  I  began  to  fear  that  the  voyage  would  end 
in  nothing,  until  about  noon  of  the  fourth  day  our  look- 
out sighted  an  approaching  sail,  which  was  not  new,  but 
added  that  she  was  a  man-of-war,  which  was  both  new 
and  interesting. 

"  It's  the  Guerriere;  it  must  be  that  frigate;  it  can't 
be  any  other,"  said  an  eager  midshipman. 

A  lieutenant  laughed  at  him  for  assuming  so  much 
so  rashly,  but  in  two  minutes  it  was  reported  all  over 
the  ship  that  we  were  about  to  meet  the  Guerriere,  and 
our  captain  would  endeavour  to  persuade  her  captain  to 
release  an  impressed  American. 

Our  course  led  toward  the  stranger  and  hers  toward 
us,  and,  taking  my  place  upon  the  deck  where  I  could  see 
best,  I  watched  her.  The  Guerriere  was  no  unknown  ship 


20±  A  HERALD  OF  THE   WEST. 

to  me,  but  whether  she  and  the  sail  approaching  were 
the  same  was  more  than  I  could  tell. 

"But  we  will  know  very  soon/'  said  the  captain. 
"  No,  by  Jove,  she  intends  to  leave  us! " 

The  truth  of  his  words  was  soon  apparent,  for  the 
strange  ship  wore  round  and  headed  to  the  south,  while 
she  was  yet  so  far  away  that  we  could  not  read  her  name, 
and  I  was  not  sailor  enough  to  decide  from  her  cut 
whether  it  was  the  Guerriere.  Yet  I  thought  it  was. 

"  We'll  follow,"  said  the  captain. 

The  stranger  was  headed  south  and  we  made  all  sail 
after  her,  gaining  on  her  steadily,  though  the  wind  was 
light,  and  the  captain  said  that  meant  a  long  chase. 

It  was  a  new  thing  for  an  American  ship  to  pursue 
an  Englishman,  but  it  so  happened;  that  it  had  not  hap- 
pened before  was  the  fault  of  the  American  Govern- 
ment, not  of  the  Americans;  now  that  it  was  a  fact  I 
was  inspired  with  a  singular  degree  of  buoyancy,  and  so 
I  believe  was  every  man  aboard  our  frigate.  The  sea  was 
a  blaze  of  purple  and  blue,  and  behind  us  was  a  long 
track  of  foam  where  the  water  cut  apart  by  the  ship 
rushed  together  again.  The  beautiful  June  afternoon 
waned  and  the  sea  turned  gray  before  us,  while  the  shad- 
ows gathered  on  the  horizon.  We  gained  slowly  on  the 
strange  ship,  still  far  ahead  of  us,  and  the  march  of  the 
twilight  promised  her  refuge  in  the  darkness  if  she 
wished  it;  though  we  could  not  tell  why  she  should  seek 
to  escape  us,  since  an  American  had  nothing  to  fear  and 
a  Briton  boasted  that  he  never  ran. 

Twilight  brought  the  night  in  its  train,  and  the 
stranger  hauled  to  the  wind  and  tacked,  going  about  and 
about  in  a  way  that  puzzled  me,  but  left  me  to  guess 
that  she  did  it  in  the  hope  of  shaking  us  off.  Yet  we 
could  see  her  through  the  dusk  and  always  we  followed, 
though  thick  weather  came  to  the  aid  of  the  night.  I 
will  not  deny  that  I  felt  an  excitement  growing  in  my 
mind,  a  belief  now,  a  hope  before,  that  I  was  about  to  wit- 


THE  FIRST  MESSAGE  FROM  THE  WEST.       205 

ness  an  event  of  consequence.  So  believing,  I  would  not 
leave  the  deck;  not  for  supper  nor  for  anything  else,  but 
stood  there  watching  the  distant  ship  which  I  believed 
to  be  the  Guerriere,  though  I  could  not  tell.  When  I 
looked  about  at  the  officers  and  crew  I  was  confirmed  in 
my  opinion  that  an  event  was  approaching,  since  all 
were  quiet  and  ready,  and,  like  I,  seemed  to  be  expectant. 

The  night  deepened  and  the  outlines  of  the  strange 
vessel  became  misty,  making  her  size  and  character  doubt- 
ful. But  with  a  better  wind  we  were  gaining  fast  upon 
her  now,  and  a  little  after  eight  o'clock  we  came  up  close 
on  the  weather  bow  of  the  stranger,  who  seemed  to  aban- 
don the  effort  to  escape.  Then  the  two  ships  hovered  to- 
gether, magnified  in  the  dusk,  like  mountains. 

"What  ship  is  that?"  hailed  Captain  Rodgers  from 
our  lee  rail. 

All  were  silent  on  the  President,  and  his  voice,  clear 
and  loud,  cut  with  startling  force  through  the  darkness. 

From  the  stranger  came  the  answering  cry  in  pre- 
cisely the  same  words: 

"What  ship  is  that?" 

Aboard  the  other  vessel,  save  for  the  captain's  query, 
they  seemed  to  be  as  silent  as  we.  Our  captain  called 
again: 

"What  ship  is  that?" 

No  answer. 

I  could  see  the  misty  forms  of  men  on  the  deck  of 
the  stranger  looking  at  us.  Our  own  sailors  were  dim 
figures  in  the  dusk.  Our  captain's  lips  opened,  as  if 
he  would  repeat  the  question  again,  and  at  the  same 
moment  I  saw  a  great  red  flash  blaze  from  the  side  of  the 
strange  ship,  and  the  deep  boom  of  a  cannon  shot  rolled 
over  the  still  waters.  I  felt  the  rush  of  air  past  me,  I 
heard  the  sweep  of  round  iron,  and  an  eighteen-pound 
cannon  ball  crashed  into  the  mainmast  of  the  President, 
some  splinters  flying  with  a  whiz  into  the  air.  A  cone 
of  smoke  rose. 


206  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

I  stood  quite  still,  and  the  first  thought  that  flashed 
upon  me  was  of  the  Chesapeake.  But  this  was  not  the 
Chesapeake,  and  though  our  captain  had  not  found  time 
to  utter  a  word — I  could  see  the  sudden  look  of  surprise 
upon  his  face — there  came  a  flash,  an  answering  roar 
from  our  own  ship,  and  a  cannon  ball,  the  first  messen- 
ger of  the  West,  sped  across  the  deck  of  the  stranger. 
Who  fired  that  shot — fired  without  orders — I  never 
knew,  but  if  I  had  known  I  would  never  have  told,  since 
I  would  have  esteemed  him  too  much. 

But  the  stranger  was  not  content  with  speaking  only 
once.  In  an  instant  I  saw  the  red  flash  blaze  out  from 
her  side,  and  again  and  again.  Three  times  her  cannon 
boomed — one,  two,  three — and  then  a  long  belt  of  flame 
leaped  up,  as  I  heard  the  ripping  crash  of  a  broadside, 
followed  by  the  whistling  of  iron,  the  puffing  of  smoke, 
and  the  smash  of  timber  as  the  shot  struck.  The  stran- 
ger was  firing  into  us  with  all  the  guns  she  could  bring  to 
bear;  but  let  me  repeat  it,  this  was  no  Chesapeake — we 
were  ready. 

"  Fire  into  him!  Give  him  the  iron! "  cried  our 
captain  to  his  gunners,  and  in  a  moment  we  were  in  the 
red  blur  and  shouting  fury  of  a  desperate  sea  combat. 
It  had  come  upon  us  with  such  a  rush  that  I  had  not 
time  to  think  of  myself  until  some  one  shouted  to  me  to 
look  out  for  the  cannon  balls,  when  I  dodged  behind  a 
huge  coil  of  rope  and  knelt  down,  just  as  eighteen  pounds 
of  iron  screamed  and  hissed  over  my  head  and  went  on  to 
cool  its  rage  in  the  sea  beyond  us. 

The  ships  were  lying  close  together,  and  the  dusk  of 
a  damp,  misty  night  was  broken  by  flash  after  flash  of 
the  cannon — red  light  following  red  light  so  fast  that 
the  blaze  was  unbroken. 

I  heard  the  screaming  of  projectiles,  the  smash  of 
wood,  the  whiz  of  splinters  as  dangerous  as  the  cannon 
balls  themselves,  the  shouting  of  the  seamen,  the  cries 
of  the  hurt — the  whole  a  wild  medley  of  noise  and  fire 


THE  FIRST  MESSAGE  FROM  THE  WEST.       207 

and  smoke.  The  smoke  rose  in  huge  columns  and 
clothed  us  like  a  thick  fog,  but  the  battle  lanterns  were 
burning,  and  the  cannon  fire,  too,  lit  up  the  decks  and 
cast  an  angry  red  over  the  face  of  the  sea.  From  the 
rigging  sharpshooters  were  firing,  and  through  the 
heavier  boom  of  the  great  guns  one  could  hear  distinctly 
the  sharp  crackle  of  the  rifles.  The  gunners  loaded  and 
fired  rapidly,  but  with  aim.  Sometimes,  as  the  smoke 
was  blown  away  by  their  own  cannon  fire,  I  could  see 
them  distinctly,  and  then  the  smoke  floating  back  would 
hide  them  or  turn  them  into  mere  ghostly  figures,  seem- 
ing to  be  made  of  vapour  themselves.  The  ship  swayed 
with  the  swell  of  the  ocean  and  the  concussion  of  the 
guns,  and  the  yards  creaked  peacefully  through  all  the 
firing. 

I  began  to  think  now  what  would  be  the  result  of 
this,  of  these  cannon  shots  fired  out  at  sea  with  such 
suddenness.  Surely  it  was  not  an  affair  that  two  gov- 
ernments could  let  drift  on  for  years,  and  it  must  lead 
to  something  that  would  be  a  change  from  the  long  period 
of  insult  and  oppression  that  we  had  endured,  for  I  never 
doubted  that  the  strange  ship  was  an  Englishman. 

Again  a  cannon  ball  shrieked  over  my  head,  another 
sent  splinters  flying,  and  a  boy,  a  powder  monkey,  cried 
out  as  one  tore  the  flesh  of  his  shoulder.  They  took 
him  below  to  the  surgeon,  and  a  minute  later  our  gun- 
ners raised  a  great  cheer.  The  stranger's  fire  was  slack- 
ening fast,  and  in  ten  minutes  from  the  first  cannon 
shot  it  became  only  a  stray  discharge  or  two.  Then  the 
captain  ordered  ours  to  cease  entirely,  for  it  was  evi- 
dent from  the  volume  of  the  cannonade  that  the  strange 
ship  was  much  inferior  to  ours  in  calibre.  I  was  sure 
now  that  she  was  not  the  Guerriere,  which  was  of  the 
same  class  as  the  President,  but  I  was  still  firm  in  the 
belief  that  she  was  an  Englishman. 

The  gunners  obeyed  the  order  with  the  same  prompt- 
ness and  calmness  that  they  had  shown  in  loading  and 


208  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

firing,  and  waited  to  see  what  would  happen.  What  did 
happen  was  a  sudden  renewal  of  the  stranger's  cannon- 
ade, for,  taking  our  cessation  as  proof  that  we  were 
beaten,  he  opened  anew  with  many  guns.  Then  the 
combat  which  we  had  rejoiced  over  as  finished  was  begun 
again.  The  clouds  of  smoke  thickened  in  the  damp, 
misty  night,  and  the  quivering  of  our  ship  became  a 
roll,  for  the  wind  was  rising,  and,  despite  the  flash  of 
the  guns,  the  darkness  increased.  Looking  up,  I  could 
see  that  there  were  no  stars  in  the  heavens,  and  all  the 
skies  were  cloudy,  black,  and  threatening.  The  firing 
of  the  stranger  was  wild,  many  balls  whistled  far  above 
our  heads,  and  still  others  struck  the  sea  behind  the 
ship,  sending  up  jets  of  foam.  There  was  much  to  con- 
fuse the  aim,  for  each  of  the  vessels  was  firing  into  the 
smoke-bank,  and  only  by  the  light  of  the  cannon  were 
the  combatants  visible  to  each  other.  Suddenly  the 
President  fired  an  entire  crashing  broadside  into  the 
heart  of  the  smoke-bank  that  hid  the  stranger.  I  heard 
the  splintering  and  tearing  of  wood,  the  flapping  of  fall- 
ing sails,  the  shriek  of  men  mortally  hurt,  and  the 
strange  ship,  under  the  impact  of  the  shot,  seemed  to 
heave  up  out  of  the  smoke-bank  and  then  to  sink  back 
into  the  sea,  winged  and  helpless.  She  was  beyond  the 
control  of  her  crew  now,  for  she  wore  around  stern  on, 
and  another  broadside  from  the  President  would  have 
raked  her  fore  and  aft  and  annihilated  her  crew.  But 
that  broadside  was  not  given,  for  it  was  evident  that  our 
enemy's  fight  was  over. 

There  was  again  a  sudden  silence  aboard  our  ship; 
the  gunners  stood  beside  their  guns,  the  sharpshooters 
in  the  rigging  held  their  rifles  at  rest,  the  frigate  rocked 
in  the  swell  of  the  sea  which  lapped  against  her  sides, 
and  the  clouds  of  smoke  again  drifted  slowly  from  the 
deck  and  upward.  Our  captain  hailed  the  stranger,  and 
some  kind  of  a  reply  was  shouted  out,  but  as  we  were 
to  windward  we  could  not  understand  it.  Sure  now 


THE  FIRST  MESSAGE  PROM  THE  WEST.       209 

that  she  could  fight  no  longer,  we  ran  down  under  the 
stranger's  lee  and  hove  to,  that  we  might  be  ready  to 
rescue  the  crew  in  case  she  should  sink,  which  seemed 
probable. 

I  did  not  sleep  or  lie  down  that  night.  I  will  admit 
that  every  nerve  in  me  was  quivering  with  excitement. 
I,  who  a  week  before  had  dreamed  of  nothing,  less  than 
of  this,  had  just  passed  through  a  furious  naval  bat- 
tle which  might  bring  untold  consequences,  and,  more- 
over, I  was  thrilled  to  the  marrow  by  the  scene  itself, 
the  darkness  of  the  night,  the  moaning  of  the  wind, 
and  the  immenshy  of  the  sea,  limitless  to  me,  a  lands- 
man, upon  which  the  two  ships  rocked  side  by  side,  one 
almost  a  wreck.  The  wildness  of  the  enemy's  fire  had 
been  so  great  that  on  the  President  nobody  was  hurt 
save  the  boy  whom  I  had  seen  struck  by  a  splinter,  but  I 
guessed  that  on  the  other  ship  there  would  be  a  much 
bloodier  tale  to  tell. 

As  the  night  advanced,  the  wind  rose  still  more  and 
the  two  ships  drifted  apart,  and  in  the  darkness  we  lost 
her  for  awhile.  It  was  a  time  of  suspense  and  anxiety 
for  us  all,  since  the  stranger  might  go  down  in  the  night, 
leaving  no  sign,  and  it  was  important  to  know  whom 
we  had  been  fighting.  But  the  long  night  ended  and  the 
slow  day  came  at  last.  The  fiery  sun  swinging  clear  of 
the  sea  drove  away  the  sombre  rain  clouds,  and  the  face 
of  the  waters  stretched  before  us,  a  blaze  of  blue,  shot 
with  pink,  where  the  flame  of  the  sun  struck  through  it. 
But  there,  two  or  three  miles  away,  floating  like  a  hulk, 
was  our  ship. 

"A  Briton — a  twenty-two-gun  sloop,  I  should  say,0 
said  Lieutenant  Creighton,  by  whose  side  I  was  standing. 
"  What  a  fool  she  was  to  fire  into  a  vessel  of  our  weight, 
but  since  the  Chesapeake  affair  any  British  ship  thinks 
she  can  bully  an  American  of  double  her  size." 

Which  was  true,  but  which,  nevertheless,  proved  to 
be  a  most  unfortunate  thing  for  Englishmen. 


210  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

We  ranged  up,  and  a  boat  was  lowered  from  our  ship. 

"  Would  you  like  to  go  in  the  boat,  Mr  Ten  Broeck?  " 
asked  the  captain  of  me.  "  I  think  that,  after  all,  it  was 
a  good  thing  you  missed  going  ashore,  as  you  will  have 
to  report  on  this  affair,  and  you  will  be  an  extremely  im- 
portant witness/' 

Of  course  I  volunteered  to  go  in  the  boat,  which  was 
commanded  by  Lieutenant  Creighton,  who  was  instructed 
to  convey  to  the  stranger  our  regrets  at  the  necessity  that 
led  to  such  an  unhappy  result,  and  to  offer  any  assistance 
that  might  be  needed.  These  things  sound  stilted  and 
insincere  now,  but  they  were  the  style  then,  especially 
among  naval  officers,  and  hitherto  it  had  been  the  pleas-' 
ure  of  the  English  only  to  "  express  regrets." 

We  pulled  toward  the  shattered  ship,  and  saw  lower- 
ering  faces  watching  over  the  rail.  But  they  did  not 
object  to  our  visit  aboard,  where  we  were  received  by 
Arthur  Bingham,  commander  of  his  Britannic  Majesty's 
twenty-two-gun  corvette  Little  Belt,  which  had  suffered 
eleven  men  killed  and  twenty-one  wounded  in  a  combat 
the  night  before  with  the  American  frigate  President — 
more  than  a  double  reparation  for  the  murderous  and 
gratuitous  assault  upon  the  Chesapeake. 

But  the  small  courtesies  that  we  had  for  each  other 
were  a  mere  form,  soon  discarded  as  useless.  Commander 
Bingham  was  in  no  mood  for  phrases,  nor  would  I  have 
been,  in  his  place,  with  my  ship  half  a  wreck  under  me. 
We  gave  the  name  of  our  ship  and  he  gave  his,  declining 
our  offer  of  assistance  with  the  belief  that  the  Little  Belt 
was  still  good  enough  to  reach  her  port,  wherever  that 
mi<rht  be.  So  we  left  him  to  his  dead  and  his  wounded, 
and,  though  it  is  an  awful  thing  to  take  life,  I  felt  no 
sorrow  for  the  English,  since  they  had  provoked  it  and 
they  had  shed  much  American  blood  without  redress  be- 
fore that  night. 

I  found  that  I  was  bound  on  a  longer  voyage  than  I 
had  expected,  as  the  President,  in  obedience  to  orders 


THE  FIRST  MESSAGE  FROM  THE   WEST.       211 

of  which  I  knew  nothing,  did  not  return  to  the  Chesa- 
peake, but  sailed  for  New  York.  We  spoke  a  Swedish 
vessel  bound  for  Baltimore,  which  carried  the  first  news 
of  the  fight  to  an  American  port,  while  we  jogged  leis- 
urely on  to  New  York. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

CONVERGING   EVENTS. 

WHEN  we  reached  New  York  I  bade  adieu  to  my 
friends  of  the  President,  with  whom  my  voyage  had  been 
pleasant  and  most  eventful,  and  hastened  ashore,  where 
our  adventure  was  known  already,  making  the  arrival  of 
the  frigate  an  occasion  for  ferment  in  the  city.  I  hur- 
ried to  Fraunce's  Tavern,  intending  to  write  there  a 
letter  to  Mr.  Gallatin  which  should  contain  a  full  and 
truthful  account  of  the  battle  and  an  apology  for  my 
voyage  on  the  President.  But  upon  the  latter  point  I 
anticipated  no  trouble  whatever,  since  I  would  be,  as 
Captain  Rodgers  had  put  it,  a  most  valuable  witness,  a 
civilian  hitherto  unknown  to  the  crew  of  the  President, 
and  therefore  my  presence  on  board  her  had  been  a  most 
fortuitous  occurrence. 

But  rapidly,  as  I  walked  through  the  city,  I  could 
note  the  rising  tumult,  as  I  had  noted  it  on  the  day  De- 
guyo  was  seized,  although  it  was  now  of  a  different  char- 
acter, for  the  temper  of  men's  minds  was  such,  made  so 
by  long  and  persistent  provovcation,  that  they  rejoiced  at 
the  shattering  of  the  Little  Belt  and  the  slaughter  of  her 
crew — a  just  punishment  for  the  battle  which  she  had 
begun  and  some  small  repayment  for  the  innumerable 
outrages  which  we  had  suffered.  So  in  the  street  I  wit- 
nessed no  emotion  save  fierce  joy,  whatever  the  timid 
Federalists  in  their  fine  houses  may  have  felt. 

As  I  stepped  in  at  the  door  of  Fraunce's  Tavern  I  met 
Marian  Pendleton,  who  was  just  about  to  come  out. 
312 


CONVERGING  EVENTS.  213 

"Why,  Philip!"  she  cried  in  the  greatest  astonish- 
ment. "  Where  did  you  come  from  ?  We  heard  that 
you  had  been  sent  to  Annapolis  with  a  message  and  had 
disappeared.  Father  had  it  in  a  letter  from  Washington, 
and  there  was  much  talk  there  about  you." 

"  And  I  am  surprised,  too,  to  see  you  here,"  I  said 
without  answering  her  question  at  once,  but  taking  both 
her  hands  in  mine.  "  I  thought  you  had  left  for  Wash- 
ington weeks  ago." 

"  No,  we  have  stayed  on;  we  have  found  New  York 
pleasant;  our  friends  Mr.  Mercer  and  Mr.  Courtenay 
are  also  yet  here;  but  tell  me,  where  have  you  been?  " 

"  At  sea;  I've  come  from  a  battle." 

"  At  sea!  A  battle! "  Her  face  was  pale,  but  her 
eyes  had  lighted  up. 

"  Yes;  I  was  on  the  President  when  she  fought  the 
Little  Belt,  and  I've  just  landed  from  her." 

Then  I  told  her  the  story,  and  she  listened  with 
sparkling  eyes  and  a  face  in  which  a  flush  had  replaced 
the  pallor.  She  had  all  the  feeling  of  our  Western 
women  against  England,  nourished  as  it  was  by  the  tales 
of  the  English-led  and  English-armed  Indians  who  came 
down  from  the  Northwest  and  slew  and  burned  and  out- 
raged along  the  border.  Women,  the  best  of  them,  re- 
member and  cherish  animosities  longer  than  men.  They, 
too,  at  times  can  cry  for  war  as  loudly  as  the  men. 

"  Oh,  Philip/*  she  said,  "  I  am  glad  it  has  happened, 
and  I  am  glad  you  were  there! " 

"  Perhaps  we  will  have  war  now,"  I  said,  "  and  that 
may  bring  peace  and  security — nothing  else  will." 

Then  she  became  pale  again,  and  I  knew  that  she 
was  thinking  of  those  things,  other  than  glory,  that  war 
is  sure  to  bring.  Cyrus  Pendleton  himself  came  in,  full 
of  the  news  and  flushed  with  its  character,  so  different 
from  all  that  had  gone  before,  the  red  showing  through 
the  brown  of  his  lean  hawk  face,  his  black  eyes  snapping. 

"  I  tell  you,  Phil,"  he  said — he,  too,  seemed  to  have 


214:  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

regained  his  ancient  friendliness  for  me  because  I  had 
been  on  the  frigate — "  we've  put  the  burden  on  England; 
it's  her  business  now  to  show  resentment.  If  she  can 
stand  this  she  can  stand  more." 

He  talked  on,  full  of  joy,  his  fiery  old  soul  ablaze. 
His  was  no  parlour  zeal;  it  was  the  warlike  temper  of  a 
man  who  had  carried  his  life  at  his  rifle's  muzzle  for 
twenty  years,  and  was  still  ready,  at  sixty,  to  fight  for 
what  he  thought  the  right.  In  many  a  log  cabin  on  the 
border  there  was  another  like  him.  He  was  so  anxious 
to  go  to  Washington,  that  he  might  see  what  would  hap- 
pen and  be  present  to  lend  what  influence  he  had  to 
make  it  happen  as  he  wished,  that  he  ordered  Marian 
to  do  her  packing  and  be  ready  for  the  start  on  the  fol- 
lowing morning.  I  asked  to  accompany  them,  and  Mer- 
cer and  Courtenay,  who  came  in  soon,  decided  to  do  like- 
wise. I  discovered  that  the  handsome  Miss  Constance 
Eastlake  was  one  of  the  reasons  why  Courtenay  had 
lingered  in  New  York,  and  I  was  glad  to  learn  from 
Mercer  that  she  liked  Courtenay  better  than  any  other 
man,  for  I  thought  her  a  very  fine  girl,  though  not  the 
finest  of  all.  Men  were  ever  fools  about  women,  and  yet 
could  not  keep  away  from  them,  said  Mercer  in  conclu- 
sion, and  for  a  little  I  was  sad  on  his  account. 

Early  summer  was  in  all  its  freshness  and  bloom,  and 
we  decided  that  instead  of  making  the  journey  in  stage- 
coaches we  would  ride  horseback  to  the  capital.  The  in- 
evitable Bidwell  made  his  appearance  as  a  member  of  our 
party,  since  he,  of  course,  had  not  thought  of  leaving  New 
York  before  the  Pendletons. 

Few  finer  or  more  pleasant  journeys  have  been  made 
than  that  which  we  took  in  the  rosy  month  of  June, 
1811,  from  New  York  to  Philadelphia,  and  thence  to 
Baltimore  and  on  to  Washington.  Good  weather  at- 
tended us,  the  roads  were  dry  and  hard;  about  us  the 
country  blossomed  and  bloomed,  the  apple  and  the  peach 
trees  were  cones  of  pink  and  white,  and  the  tiny  wild 


CONVERGING  EVENTS.  215 

flowers  clustered  in  the  grass.  My  prestige  as  a  warrior, 
because  I  had  been  on  the  President  in  the  tight,  clung  to 
me,  and  I  profited  by  it  to  the  utmost.  I  was  forced  to 
tell  the  tale  of  the  battle  again  and  again,  and  it  required 
much  power  over  self  to  keep  to  facts.  I  could  not  re- 
strain a  cut  now  and  then  at  Bidwell,  who  did  not  seem 
to  be  of  a  warlike  character,  and  once  received  a  re- 
buke from  an  unexpected  quarter. 

"  Mr.  Bidwell  is  a  courageous  man,  I  think,"  said 
Marian — Bidwell  was  too  far  away  then  to  hear.  "  Per- 
haps he  will  show  it  when  the  opportunity  comes." 

Cyrus  Pendleton's  sudden  attack  of  friendliness  for 
me  soon  cooled  a  little,  though  I  did  not  mind,  and  he 
still  showed  plainly  that  he  wished  Bidwell's  estate  and 
his  own  to  be  united,  with  the  marriage  certificate  of  his 
daughter  as  the  title  deed.  It  was  a  curious  fact,  as  I 
have  said  before,  that  our  Kentucky  blue  grass  barons, 
who  were  then  England's  most  embittered  foes,  copied 
her  landed  aristocracy  as  closely  as  they  could,  and  the 
cherished  ambition  of  them  all  was  to  found  estates  feu- 
dal in  extent  and  character. 

But  our  talk  as  we  rode  southward  was  not  all  of 
war.  We  had  seen  something  of  the  richer  and  more 
cultivated  East.  Marian  had  been  welcome  in  the  soci- 
ety of  New  York,  and  we  of  the  West,  who  knew  so  much 
of  the  hardships  of  life,  had  begun  now  to  learn  a  little 
of  its  softer  side.  So  it  was  of  these  things  that  we 
talked  often  as  we  rode  on  through  the  country  that 
flowered  the  more  as  we  continued  our  southward  way. 

We  found  Washington  in  a  state  of  deep  quiet,  the 
affair  of  the  Little  Belt  was  growing  old,  and  midsum- 
mer, which  is  very  hot  at  the  capital,  would  soon  be 
there.  The  English  seemed  to  be  surprised  that  some 
of  their  own  men  and  not  Americans  had  been  killed, 
and  one  day  I  saw  a  quiet  man  of  amiable  appearance, 
who,  as  I  was  told,  was  the  new  British  minister,  Mr. 
Foster.  My  excuses  had  been  accepted  by  Mr.  Gallatin 


216  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

without  comment,  but  I  noticed  that  he  filed  my  report 
of  the  affair  very  carefully.  Thus  everything  seemed 
quiet  under  the  summer  heats,  hut  we  could  tell  in  a 
day  that  it  was  superficial,  that  behind  this  seeming  veil 
of  peace  the  storms  were  gathering.  The  first  note  came 
from  the  placid,  amiable  British  minister  himself,  from 
whom  so  much  of  a  soothing  nature  was  expected,  when 
he  protested  in  a  characteristic  British  way  against  our 
occupation  of  West  Florida,  an  affair  that  concerned 
Spain  and  ourselves  exclusively.  From  all  the  western 
country  came  the  murmur  of  angly  reply. 

I  was  taken  back  into  Mr.  Gallatin's  office,  the  Pen- 
dletons  and  Mercer  and  Courtenay  remained  in  the  city, 
and  the  summer  waned.  The  green  and  the  freshness 
gave  way  to  brown  and  dust,  and  men's  minds  were  filled 
with  uncertainty.  In  Europe  the  power  of  Bonaparte  on 
land  swelled  and  grew  as  ever,  and  he  threatened  to  be- 
come master  of  the  whole  Continent;  the  French  legions 
marched  only  to  victory.  On  the  water  the  English 
rode  supreme  as  of  old;  nowhere  a  foe  dared  to  appear, 
and  between  the  two,  England  and  France,  we  were 
ground,  as  in  all  the  years  that  had  gone  before.  The 
thousands  of  impressed  American  sailors  still  sailed  and 
fought  against  their  will  on  the  British  ships,  the 
British  fleets  still  patrolled  our  coasts,  seeking  new  vic- 
tims, our  own  ships  everywhere  were  exposed  to  search 
and  confiscation,  trade  was  going  to  ruin,  there  was  no 
foot  that  did  not  feel  the  pinch  of  the  shoe,  and  from  all 
the  regions  behind  the  hills  came  the  cry  that  it  was 
better  to  fight;  yet  the  Government  made  no  prepara- 
tions, though  already,  our  negotiations  with  the  chiefs 
failing,  the  formidable  Northwestern  tribes,  led  by  the 
redoubtable  Tecumseh  and  his  brother,  the  Prophet, 
yielding  to  English  hints  and  English  promises,  were  in 
open  war  on  the  border,  where  they  were  confronted  by 
the  armed  farmers  of  the  West.  I  heard  of  this  war 
with  the  deepest  anxiety.  Many  of  my  own  personal 


CONVERGING  EVENTS.  217 

friends  had  gone  with  Harrison's  army  into  the  Indiana 
wilderness,  where  the  white  man  always  fought  at  a  great 
disadvantage,  and  there  was  no  one  in  Kentucky  who  had 
not  heard  the  tale  of  St.  Glair's  terrible  defeat,  how  his 
army  was  annihilated  in  the  winter  wilderness  by  an  un- 
seen foe,  as  Braddock's  English  army  had  been  forty 
years  before.  But  the  army  was  buried  in  the  forest, 
and  we  were  to  hear  nothing  more  of  it  until  such  time 
as  chance  willed  for  news  to  filter  through  the  stretches 
of  wooded  desolation. 

The  autumn  waned,  following  in  the  path  of  the 
dead  summer,  the  woods  gleamed  with  the  brilliant  foli- 
age, the  variations  and  the  changing  colours  of  Indian 
summer,  the  smoky  haze  rose  on  the  horizon,  the  sharp 
touch  of  cold  crept  into  the  air,  and  the  keen  winds  por- 
tended the  coming  winter.  One  heard  nothing  in  the 
little  capital  of  Washington  but  politics;  President  Mad- 
ison's re-election  was  assured,  and  it  seemed  that  a  war 
Congress  would  come  in  with  him,  though  New  England 
and  the  East  would  have  nothing  of  it.  Mr.  Clay  was  a 
candidate  for  the  House  from  the  Lexington  district,  and 
everybody  said  that  he  would  be  chosen  Speaker  when 
he  came  to  Washington,  using  all  his  power  in  that  great 
position  to  bring  on  the  proposed  war.  But  still  the 
Government  prepared  nothing  for  what  was  certainly 
coming.  The  great  men  theorized  and  talked  of  an  ideal 
state  which  would  know  naught  of  war,  which  would 
have  neither  army  nor  navy,  which  in  all  its  dealings 
with  foreign  states  should  rely  upon  the  single  principle 
of  justice,  closing  their  eyes  to  the  fact  that  all  the«world 
was  at  war,  that  force  not  justice  was  the  single  principle 
then  ruling  all  things,  and  the  man  who  did  not  arm 
consigned  himself  to  the  wolves.  The  nearer  war  came 
and  the  more  we  talked  about  it,  the  less  ready  we  were 
for  it,  and  with  a  divided  country  the  most  sanguine,  who 
are  always  the  youngest,  could  well  shrink  before  the 
prospect. 

15 


218  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

I  walked  up  Pennsylvania  Avenue  a  windy  morning 
in  November  and  saw  Courtenay  approaching,  waving 
his  hat  in  his  hand  and  shouting  hurrah  to  me .  as  he 
came.  I  thought  he  was  suffering  from  a  mild  attack  of 
lunacy  and  told  him  so,  but  he  continued  his  shouting, 
and  when  he  reached  me  grasped  my  hand  and  shook  it 
fervently. 

"  What  on  earth  is  wrong  with  you,  Felix?  "  I  asked. 

"  Nothing  is  wrong  with  me,"  he  replied  exuber- 
antly. "  It  is  wrong  with  the  other  fellows  and  their 
English  allies." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"We've  beaten  all  the  Northwestern  tribes.  The 
news  came  this  morning.  It  was  at  Tippecanoe;  there 
had  been  palavers  about  peace,  and  they  treacherously 
rushed  our  men  in  the  dusk  before  the  dawn,  but  they 
were  beaten  and  the  great  medicine  man,  the  Prophet, 
was  killed  on  the  field.  Their  Northwestern  confeder- 
acy has  gone  to  pieces  and  the  border  is  safe." 

This,  in  truth,  was  great  and  good  news,  and  the 
whole  city  was  soon  rejoicing  with  a  joy  that  it  had  a 
good  right  to  feel,  for  the  Northwestern  Indians  were  a 
most  formidable  foe,  who  afterward  proved  themselves 
more  than  once  to  be  better  than  their  allies,  the  British 
regulars. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE   APOSTLE   OF   PEACE. 

THE  war  feeling  grew,  the  new  Congress  came  in, 
and  Mr.  Clay,  as  was  predicted,  became  Speaker  of  the 
House,  to  be  recognised  at  once  as  the  leader  of  the 
war  party.  But  things  still  lagged,  though  everybody 
could  see  that  the  war  clouds  hovered  lower,  and  still, 
though  war  seemed  inevitable,  the  Government  was  su- 
pine. Mercer  railed  at  me  bitterly  about  what  he  was 
pleased  to  call  my  Government,  because  I  was  one  of  its 
clerks.  The  winter  was  passing,  a  winter  which  had 
been  pleasant  to  me,  despite  the  national  anxieties,  for 
Washington  was  gay  socially,  and  I  saw  Marian  often, 
when  Mr.  Gallatin  said  to  me  as  he  was  leaving  the  office 
one  afternoon: 

"  Philip,  as  you  have  shown  yourself  to  be  a  trust- 
worthy messenger,  I  want  you  to  take  up  that  duty 
again.  Have  your  horse  ready  and  start  in  the  morning 
for  Monticello.  I  will  give  you  a  letter  to  Mr.  Jeffer- 
son which  will  show  that  you  came  from  us.  Talk  to 
him  about  this  war,  see  what  he  thinks,  and  report  to  us. 
But  say  nothing  of  it  to  anybody  else.  Be  discreet,  you 
understand." 

I  understood  very  well,  for  it  was  charged  publicly, 
especially  by  the  Federalists,  that  Mr.  Madison  was  the 
creature  of  Mr.  Jefferson,  who  had  made  him  his  suc- 
cessor and  controlled  the  administration  at  the  hundred- 
mile-range  of  Monticello,  which  was  a  falsehood,  though 
it  was  eminently  proper  that  the  President  and  his  Cabi- 

219 


220  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

net  should  obtain  the  advice  of  the  greatest  living  Ameri- 
can on  the  most  important  subject  of  the  day.  But  it 
must  be  kept  secret,  that  it  might  not  furnish  capital  to 
unscrupulous  political  opponents. 

I  shrank  a  moment  from  so  delicate  a  task,  and  then 
accepted  it,  for  I  was  flattered,  and,  moreover,  I  had 
never  yet  seen  Mr.  Jefferson,  a  man  who  exerted  a 
greater  influence  than  any  other  upon  our  nation,  with 
the  possible  exception  of  Washington. 

I  mounted  my  horse  on  a  raw,  cold  morning  in  late 
winter  and  rode  to  Monticello,  carrying  in  my  waistcoat 
pocket  a  letter  of  introduction  to  Mr.  Jefferson  which 
was  to  do  part  of  my  work  for  me,  though  I  was  to  rely 
upon  what  tact  and  address  I  might  have  for  the  re- 
mainder. It  was  a  hundred  miles  from  Washington  to 
Monticello,  over  a  red  road  heavy  with  mud,  and  I  crossed 
eight  deep  rivers,  five  of  them  without  bridges.  Vir- 
ginia was  a  great  State  then,  perhaps  the  greatest  State 
in  our  Union,  but  I,  who  had  returned  so  recently  from 
two  trips  into  the  North,  noticed  a  sad  contrast.  I  fear 
that  our  fine  Virginia  gentlemen  thought  more  of  sound- 
ing political  principles  in  the  abstract  and  the  empty  tri- 
umphs of  oratory  than  of  personal  thrift,  economy,  and 
neatness,  which  I  think  must  lie  at  the  foundation  of  a 
strong  nation. 

I  saw  on  either  side  of  the  road  fields  worn  out  al- 
ready by  careless  cropping,  deserted  and  growing  up  in 
red  sassafras  bushes,  and  several  times  I  met  the  fine 
old  Virginia  gentlemen,  still  wearing  the  costume  of  fif- 
teen or  twenty  years  earlier,  powdered  hair,  three-cor- 
nered hat,  long  cue,  white  top  breeches,  and  fine  coats 
of  buff  or  other  bright  colour.  Yet  their  dress  always 
lacked  the  final  touch  of  neatness  and  care,  and  it  seemed 
to  me  that  their  houses,  large,  fine,  and  imposing,  yet 
spotted  with  neglected  weather  stains,  and  with  the 
shabby  negro  cabins  huddling  in  the  rear,  were  a  re- 
flex of  themselves,  their  eyes  fixed  too  much  upon  big 


THE  APOSTLE  OF  PEACE.  221 

things  to  do  the  little  things  which  make  up  the  big 
things. 

With  bad  weather  and  worse  roads  it  took  me  three 
days  to  make  the  journey  of  a  hundred  miles,  but  at  last 
I  came  within  sight  of  Monticello,  Mr.  Jefferson's  spa- 
cious mansion  of  antique  plan,  with  its  rolling  hills  and 
fertile  fields  around  it,  and  the  blue  haze  of  the  Blue 
Ridge  behind  it,  a  fit  abode  for  a  man  who  had  seen 
nearly  all  and  had  had  nearly  all  that  this  world  offers — 
one  who  had  lived  at  the  French  court  in  its  wildest  lux- 
ury and  recklessness,  who  had  passed  through  our  own 
Revolution  and  that  other  of  France  far  bloodier  and 
more  terrible,  who  had  been  for  eight  years  the  Presi- 
dent of  our  nation,  and  for  many  more  years  than 
that  the  most  powerful  man  in  it,  and  yet  through  all 
had  been  a  dreamer  imagining  a  state  of  perfect  peace, 
peopled  only  by  farmers,  when  all  the  world  was  at 
war,  with  blows  random  or  intended  falling  incessantly 
upon  us;  a  great  and  good  man  who  worked  for  the 
future,  and  yet  made  some  terrible  mistakes  in  the 
present. 

I  knew  that  Mr.  Jefferson,  the  greatest  of  democrats, 
was  an  austere  man,  fond  only  of  the  society  of  men 
cultivated  like  himself,  but  I  knew  also  that  he  consist- 
ently cared  nothing  for  the  forms  of  ceremony  and  that 
I  would  have  no  trouble  in  approaching  him  at  Monti- 
cello.  His  farm,  or  rather  estate,  was  much  neater  than 
the  others,  for  a  love  and  skilful  practice  of  agriculture 
came  within  the  scope  of  his  wide  activities;  yet  I  saw 
many  slouchy  negroes  about,  and  they  paid  so  little  at- 
tention to  me  that  I  hitched  my  horse  at  a  post  un- 
noticed, walked  upon  the  porch,  and  thumped  at  the 
door  with  the  butt  of  my  riding  whip. 

A  tall  man,  far  gone  in  years  and  with  scanty,  longish 
red  hair,  opened  the  door.  He  wore  home-made  jeans 
trousers  and  a  richly  embroidered  loose  velvet  dressing 
jacket,  coat  and  trousers,  forming  a  strange  contrast..  It 


222  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

was  Mr.  Jefferson  himself,  and  I  knew  him  at  once, 
though  I  had  never  seen  him  before. 

1  gave  him  my  name  and  showed  him  my  letter  of  in- 
troduction, and  he  became  at  once  the  hospitable  South- 
ern host.  Shambling  in  front,  he  led  the  way  into  a 
room  in  which  a  wood  fire  crackled  on  a  wide  hearth. 
He  gave  me  a  chair  himself  and  then  punched  the  fire 
with  an  iron  poker.  There  was  no  servant  about. 

"  I  have  some  twenty  or  thirty  lazy  negroes  to  wait 
on  me,"  he  said,  "but  I  do  not  recall  when  I  was  able 
to  find  one  of  them  at  the  time  I  wanted  him." 

Their  absence  did  not  appear  to  annoy  him,  and  he 
bustled  about,  talking  of  many  things  with  all  the  ease 
and  charm  of  a  man  who  had  known  the  great  world 
and  had  been  equal  to  it. 

The  room  was  like  its  master,  a  mass  of  contradic- 
tions, Old  World  elegance  and  New  World  rudeness; 
on  the  floor  some  rich  European  rugs  and  a  piece  of 
rough  home-made  Virginia  carpet,  some  chairs  of  wood 
that  had  been  carved  and  twisted  in  France  or  Italy,  and 
two  more  of  rude  handwork,  probably  by  his  own  negroes. 
But  everywhere  on  the  tables,  the  chairs,  the  shelves,  and 
the  floor  were  books,  and  a  hasty  glance  was  sufficient 
to  show  that  they  were  the  books  of  the  masters. 

He  discovered  very  soon  why  I  came,  and  I  had  not 
expected  otherwise.  There  was  no  desire  to  fence  with 
Mr.  Jefferson,  and  if  it  had  been  so  I  would  not  have 
been  sent  on  such  an  errand;  it  was  intended  from  the 
first  that  he  should  know  without  preliminaries.  The 
mention  of  war  threw  him  into  a  distemper.  He  had 
fought  so  long  against  it,  he  had  thought  it  the  greatest 
of  all  evils,  an  evil  that  could  be  banished  from  the 
world,  and  now  the  party  of  which  he  was  the  founder 
and  still  the  head  was  hurrying  it  on;  the  President 
whom  he  had  helped  most  to  make  would  choose  it,  too, 
and  yet  he  could  not  say  no  to  them,  as  he  could  find  no 
argument  against  them  but  the  single  ignoble  one  of  risk. 


THE  APOSTLE  OF  P2ACE.  223 

"  I  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  it!  Nothing! 
Nothing! "  he  said,  a  certain  despair  showing  in  his  tone 
at  the  crash  of  his  most  beloved  theory.  "  Tell  them  I 
am  only  a  private  citizen  of  the  United  States,  no  more 
than  the  million  others,  and  I  have  no  part  in  govern- 
ments or  policies." 

Then  he  added  in  a  milder  tone: 

"  Tell  them  I  am  to  found  a  university  here  and  am 
trying  to  discover  a  method  of  restoring  the  exhausted 
lands  of  Virginia.  The  two  things  will  keep  me  busy  for 
the  remainder  of  my  life." 

When  I  left  he  followed  me  to  the  hitching  post 
and  gave  me  a  hearty  handshake  at  good-bye.  Then  he 
threw  the  remains  of  an  old  Continental  overcoat  over 
his  shoulders,  called  to  a  couple  of  hounds,  and  walked 
away  to  manage  the  work  of  some  negroes  on  a  new  to- 
bacco barn. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE    GUNS   OF   THE   CONSTITUTION. 

THE  winter  passed,  the  spring  came  again,  and  the 
world  bloomed  afresh;  spring  yielded  to  summer,  and 
on  one  of  its  early  days  I  took  Marian  Pendleton  walking 
in  the  grounds  of  the  Capitol.  I  did  not  go  far  from 
the  building  itself  and  she  seemed  to  wonder  why. 

"Why  do  you  stick  so  close  to  those  walls,  Philip?" 
she  asked.  "  There  is  nothing  in  there  but  a  tiresome 
old  Congress  that  talked  the  winter  away,  then  talked 
the  spring  to  death,  and  is  now  dooming  summer  to  the 
same  fate." 

But  I  remained  near  the  walls  and  steps,  neverthe- 
less, and  presently  we  heard  a  shout  and  the  excited 
clamour  of  many  voices.  People  rushed  out  of  the  build- 
ing, and  their  faces  bore  great  news.  Among  them  was 
Courtenay,  unable  to  restrain  himself. 

"It  has  been  done  at  last,  Philip!"  he  cried  to  me. 

"What  has  been  done?  What  is  it?"  asked  Ma- 
rian. 

"  War!  War!  "  said  Courtenay.  "  We  have  declared 
war  at  last  against  Great  Britain!  We  have  taken  our 
grievances  to  the  last  court,  all  others  failing! " 

He  spoke  the  truth,  or  what  was  as  good  as  the  truth, 
for  the  House  had  voted  for  war,  and  the  Senate,  two 
weeks  later,  passed  the  measure,  with  the  President's  proc- 
lamation quickly  following.  After  years  of  patient  and 
impatient  endurance  we  had  chosen  the  sword  at  last,  but 
without  an  army,  without  generals,  without  military 
224 


THE  GUNS  OF  THE  CONSTITUTION.  225 

stores,  and  with  ships  that  a  man  could  almost  count  on 
the  fingers  of  his  two  hands  against  the  thousand  of 
our  antagonist.  Until  the  end  the  Administration  had 
persisted  in  its  policy  of  no  preparations,  and  when  war 
was  voted  none  could  fail  to  notice  the  ominous  fact  that 
New  England  was  almost  solidly  against  it,  and  the  Mid- 
dle States  divided. 

When  that  which  I  had  long  sought  came,  I  felt  weak 
and  afraid,  and  for  the  moment  was  sorry  that  I  had 
my  wish,  knowing  so  well  our  unready  state  and  the 
slender  resources  that  we  had  for  preparations,  even  at 
this  late  hour.  Men  around  me  were  shouting  for  the 
victories  that  they  knew  would  come  to-morrow,  but  I 
began  to  understand  what  an  easy  thing  it  is  to  cry  for 
war  when  it  is  far  off,  and  how  different  it  looks  when  it 
stands  before  your  face. 

The  war  opened,  and  what  the  cautious  had  expected 
befell  us.  Hull,  a  senile  imbecile,  surrendered  without 
firing  a  shot;  the  brave  Kentucky  militia,  half  armed, 
half  equipped,  and  led  by  generals  who  were  only  talk- 
ing lawyers,  marched  hundreds  of  miles  through  the  wil- 
derness and  arrived  at  the  Canadian  border  half  dead 
with  fatigue  and  scanty  food,  only  to  be  beaten  by  in- 
ferior numbers  on  ground  that  they  did  not  know. 
Thus,  I  say,  the  war,  after  being  put  off  with  disgrace, 
opened  with  disgrace  and  continued  so  for  a  while,  until 
there  came  a  glorious  burst  of  sunlight  from  a  quarter 
expected  by  few  of  us. 

I  was  walking  up  Pennsylvania  Avenue  one  day,  de- 
spondent over  the  disasters  and  not  allowed  by  Mr.  Gal- 
latin,  my  patron,  whose  right  to  my  services  could  not 
be  denied,  to  go  to  Kentucky,  where  I  wished  to  join 
our  forces,  when  I  met  Charlton,  the  young  naval  officer 
of  my  early  acquaintance.  I  had  supposed  him  off  at  sea 
somewhere  dodging  the  English  ships,  and  was  astonished 
to  see  him  there  in  Washington. 

"You  here!"  I  said. 


226  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

"Yes,  I'm  here,  Ten  Broeck,"  he  replied,  "and  I 
bring  great  news,  glorious  news." 

I  looked  at  him  in  doubt;  one  expected  news  those 
days,  but  not  glorious  news. 

"  I  came  from  Boston,"  he  said,  "  and  Fve  brought 
the  flag  of  the  Guerriere  as  a  present  to  the  President; 
it's  full  of  holes,  but  it  will  do,  for  we  put  them  there." 

The  Guerriere!  The  ship  which  I  and  all  Americans 
had  so  much  cause  to  hate! 

"The  Guerriere!"  I  cried.  "What  of  her!  What 
do  you  mean  by  saying  that  you  bring  her  flag  as  a  pres- 
ent to  the  President  ?  " 

"  It's  all  that  was  left  to  bring,"  he  said  joyously. 
"  The  rest  of  her  is  floating  somewhere  between  the  top 
and  bottom  of  the  Atlantic,  sent  there  by  the  guns  of 
the  Constitution.  I  saw  it  done,  for  I  was  there  to  help. 
I'm  not  in  such  a  hurry  that  I  can't  tell  you  all  about  it. 
Come  with  me." 

I  went  with  him,  and  he  told  me  the  famous  old 
story;  how  the  slanders  they  had  been  pouring  on  us 
for  years  were  hurled  back  at  them  from  the  mouths  of 
the  guns  of  the  Constitution;  how  Dacres  said  the  Con- 
stitution was  coming  down  too  boldly  for  a  Yankee,  and 
his  surprise,  from  which  he  never  recovered,  when  his 
ship  was  shot  to  pieces  under  him.  Every  American 
knows  the  tale  now. 

We  had  a  great  celebration  of  the  Constitution's  vic- 
tory, and  then  came  the  blood-stained  flag  of  another 
British  frigate,  the  Macedonian,  taken  off  the  coast  of 
Africa  by  the  United  States,  the  combat,  as  before,  being 
one-sided  from  beginning  to  end  and  never  in  doubt  for 
a  moment.  The  victories  crowded  on  us,  and  the  little 
ships  as  well  as  the  big  ones  took  a  hand.  Most  glorious 
of  all  was  the  news  of  the  Wasp,  and  how  she  fought  the 
Frolic  in  a  roaring  sea  with  the  waves  tumbling  over 
each  other,  the  ships  rising  and  falling  on  their  sides, 
their  guns  going  under  water  sometimes  and  then  touch- 


THE  GUNS  OF  THE  CONSTITUTION.  227 

ing  each  other.  Their  ship  was  bigger  than  ours  and 
had  more  and  heavier  guns,  hut  it  ended  just  the  same, 
for  our  guns  were  manned  by  better  men,  and  when  the 
two  ships  locked  and  it  came  to  boarding,  at  which  the 
English  claim  to  excel,  it  was  our  men  who  boarded  and 
not  theirs,  and  their  ship  was  ours. 

And  now  a  most  wonderful  change  came  over  the 
British  Admiralty.  Before  the  war  any  ship  of  theirs 
could  whip  any  of  ours  double  her  size;  they  knew  our 
ships,  had  visited  them,  dined  aboard  them,  and  ridi- 
culed them;  but  lo!  the  British  Admiralty  issued  a  strict 
order  to  their  captains  that  no  thirty-eight-gun  frigate 
of  theirs  should  fight  a  forty-four  of  ours,  and  their 
Pique  set  the  example  by  running  away  from  the  Con- 
stitution in  the  night  in  the  West  Indies.  In  six  or 
eight  months  our  little  navy  of  twenty  against  their  thou- 
sand had  captured  or  sunk  more  ships  of  theirs  than  all 
the  navies  of  France,  Holland,  Denmark,  and  Spain  com- 
bined had  been  able  to  take  from  them  in  twenty  years  of 
incessant  fighting.  Can  you  wonder,  can  any  one  won- 
der that  we  rejoiced?  We  who  had  been  called  cowards, 
liars,  cheats,  and  everything  that  is  bad  by  them,  rejoiced 
and  still  rejoice,  and  I  know  we  had  ample  cause.  Let 
me  add,  too,  that  the  quality  of  our  foe  was  another 
reason  why  we  were  so  glad  when  we  beat  him.  We  have 
never  cared  much  for  any  of  our  victories  except  those 
that  we  have  won  over  the  English. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE   COMING   OF   THE   FOE. 

THE  winter  came  again,  and  on  the  frontier  we  still 
wallowed  deep  in  the  mire  of  disgrace,  for  we  had  only 
talking  generals,  strident  lawyers,  who  talked  the  army 
into  mortal  sickness  on  the  march,  talked  in  the  face  of 
the  foe,  and,  captured,  talked  on.  Then  we  thrilled 
with  horror  at  the  news  of  the  Raisin,  where  our  brave 
Kentuckians  were  captured  and  massacred  by  the  In- 
dians. Two  of  those  who  fell  there  under  the  Indian 
tomahawk  had  been  my  playmates,  and  it  was  not  a 
thing  to  soothe  one's  hate  of  the  foe. 

Our  spirits  were  dashed  again  by  the  taking  of  our 
Chesapeake  by  their  Shannon,  for  the  American  seamen 
had  fallen  into  the  British  fault  and  grown  too  confident, 
but  it  was  only  for  a  little  while.  Our  career  of  triumph 
upon  the  sea  was  renewed,  and  always  the  American  ship 
was  the  victor.  Then  came  the  capture  of  their  entire 
fleet  on  Erie  by  ours,  and  even  on  land  the  war  began  to 
turn  in  our  favour,  for  a  thousand  mounted  Kentuckians 
galloped  over  their  entire  army  at  the  Thames  and  slew 
Tecumseh,  the  greatest  and  most  dangerous  of  the  Indian 
chiefs.  But  still  New  England  sulked,  and  our  ports 
were  blockaded  by  their  overwhelming  fleets,  and  the 
lawyers  talked  on  and  led  our  armies,  sometimes  to  vic- 
tory, sometimes  to  defeat,  but  never  to  victory  through 
any  merit  of  theirs. 

Cyrus  Pendleton  went  to  Kentucky  once  on  business, 
and  even  at  his  age  would  have  joined  the  army  on 
228 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  FOE.  229 

the  Canadian  frontier  had  his  commercial  interests  per- 
mitted him,  but  he  came  back  to  Washington  and  re- 
mained there,  alternately  raging  and  rejoicing  as  came 
the  news  of  defeat  or  victory.  Marian  did  not  accompany 
him  to  Kentucky,  but  was  in  Washington  through  all 
this  period,  and  I  often  saw  her.  Bidwell,  who  had  be- 
come a  thorough  dandy  now,  though  not  quite  so  ex- 
treme as  Van  Steenkerk,  was  there  too,  and  he  watched 
me  with  a  jealous  eye. 

I  noticed  a  change  in  Marian.  She  had  been  an  ad- 
vocate of  war,  and  nobody's  indignation  had  been  greater 
than  hers  when  the  report  of  some  new  act  of  oppression 
came,  but  she  became  silent  upon  this  subject,  save  to 
express  a  hope  now  and  then  that  it  would  end  soon. 
The  captured  flags  of  the  Guerriere  and  the  Macedonian, 
brought  to  Washington  with  the  dried  blood  upon  them, 
had  shocked  her.  She  could  only  see  now  that  war 
meant  suffering,  wounds,  and  death.  The  brave  girl 
whom  I  had  known  so  long  became  tender  and  sad  when 
she  spoke  of  the  wounded  soldiers  on  the  battlefields  in 
the  dim  Northern  forests.  Among  all  the  women  in 
Washington  this  spirit  ruled,  and  I  think  it  should  ever 
be  the  pride  of  the  American  race,  men  and  women  alike, 
that  in  battle,  and  before  and  after,  our  humanity  has 
not  been  stained  by  ill  treatment  of  the  vanquished — a 
boast  that  no  European  nation  can  rightly  make. 

Time  went  on,  and  the  war  with  it.  In  Europe  the 
Continent  was  in  flames;  Napoleon  had  made  his  retreat 
from  Moscow  and  was  fighting  allied  Europe  with  a 
courage  and  skill  that  have  not  been  equalled  since  lone 
Hannibal  made  his  stand  against  Rome.  We  watched 
events  there  with  scarcely  less  interest  than  those  in  our 
own  country,  and  when  another  winter  passed  and  the 
news  came  that  Napoleon  had  been  beaten  to  the  ground 
at  last,  it  seemed  as  if  disasters  were  closing  in  upon  our 
young  country,  for  all  the  armies  of  Britain  were  re- 
leased from  European  warfare  and  were  sent  against  us. 


230  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

We  were  now  to  fight  single-handed  with  the  greatest 
military  power  in  the  world.  The  veterans  of  Welling- 
ton, who  had  beaten  the  veterans  of  Napoleon  in  Spain, 
were  shipped  from  the  Garonne  to  America  to  fight 
us.  The  British  fleets  covered  the  seas,  and  all  the 
vast  military  resources  raised  for  the  combat  with  Na- 
poleon were  now  directed  against  the  young  United 
States.  In  every  court  of  Europe  it  was  thought  that 
our  time  had  come,  but  they  forgot  there  that  a  republic 
is  strongest  when  it  faces  the  greatest  danger. 

We  soon  had  a  taste  of  their  quality.  Their  ships 
already  upon  our  coasts  outnumbered  our  own  ten  to  one, 
and  the  first  order  of  the  British  admiral  to  his  cap- 
tains was  to  ravage  and  destroy  every  American  town 
that  he  could  take.  Our  foe  had  ceased  to  be  civilized. 
But  this  brought  its  own  punishment,  for  when  such  tales 
as  these  came  in,  lukewarm  or  hostile  New  England  be- 
gan to  rise  and  join  us,  ashamed  of  her  treasonable  con- 
duct before,  and  when  the  New  Englanders  at  last  made 
up  their  minds  to  fight  they  fought  with  all  the  courage 
and  tenacity  that  they  had  shown  in  the  Revolution,  and 
proved  again  on  the  battlefield  and  at  the  cannon's  mouth 
that  the  New  Englanders  could  outlast  the  old  Eng- 
landers. 

We  were  now  in  the  third  year  of  the  war,  and  the 
British  were  pouring  troops  upon  our  continent  and  their 
fleets  and  transports  were  everywhere.  It  was  reported 
that  they  would  strike  at  every  seaboard  city,  and  it  was 
said  that  Washington  itself  would  be  menaced.  But  the 
Government  could  not  believe  it.  "  Attack  Washington  ? 
How  absurd! "  the  President  and  his  Cabinet  said. 
"  Why,  Washington  is  nothing  but  a  village.  What  have 
they  to  gain  by  it?  "  So  they  made  no  defence,  fortified 
nothing,  raised  no  armies,  and  waited  in  calmness  and 
confidence. 

Meantime  our  commissioners  had  gone  to  meet  those 
of  England  at  Ghent,  in  Belgium,  to  consider  a  treaty 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  FOE.  231 

of  peace,  the  English  demanding  everything.  Mr.  Gal- 
latin  was  one  of  the  commissioners,  but  at  his  order  I 
remained  in  the  Treasury  office  with  his  successor,  Mr. 
Campbell. 

So  you  may  well  understand  that  Washington  was 
thunderstruck  when,  one  warm  August  morning,  an  ex- 
press messenger  galloped  into  town  with  the  news  that 
fifty  British  ships  of  war,  loaded  down  with  troops,  had 
arrived  in  the  Potomac  and  that  their  army  would  soon 
be  marching  into  the  capital.  I  saw  the  man  myself 
and  talked  with  him  after  he  had  delivered  his  message. 
He  had  seen  the  ships,  he  did  not  exaggerate,  and  beyond 
a  doubt  the  full  danger  was  upon  us,  and  we  had  done 
nothing  to  stop  the  invaders.  Not  a  ditch  was  dug,  not 
an  earthwork,  and  no  regular  army  existed  save  that 
which  sprawled  in  legal  handwriting  across  the  pages  of 
good  paper.  With  the  enemy  marching  upon  us,  we  se- 
lected a  general,  and,  following  our  habit  in  that  war, 
we  took  a  Baltimore  lawyer,  noted  for  his  oratory,  and 
told  him  to  create  defences,  armies,  and  victories,  all  of 
which  he  devoutly  believed  he  could  do,  and  for  fear 
that  he  couldn't  do  it,  everybody  in  Washington  began 
to  show  him  the  way  it  ought  to  be  done. 

I  had  ample  opportunity  now  to  enlist  and  serve  my 
country  in  the  field  as  well  as  in  an  office,  for  with 
the  British  almost  in  sight  of  the  capital  Mr.  Campbell 
could  not  say  me  no,  and  I  joined  a  company  of  volun- 
teers, having  Bidwell  and  Cyrus  Pendleton  himself  as 
comrades.  Courtenay  and  Mercer  had  long  since  gone  to 
the  Southwest  to  join  the  army  that  Jackson  was  leading 
against  the  Creek  nation. 

I  had  urged  Cyrus  Pendleton  to  send  Marian  to 
Georgetown,  where  she  could  stay  in  the  house  of  some 
friends,  and  the  sanguine  old  man  yielded  to  what  he 
called  a  useless  precaution,  saying  that  the  English  might 
get  a  view  of  Washington — and  he  hoped  that  it  would 
do  them  good — but  that  would  be  all. 


232  A  HERALD  OP  THE  WEST. 

I  saw  Marian  just  before  her  departure. 

"  Philip,"  she  said,  "  I  can  only  ask  you  to  be  a 
brave  soldier,  and  that  I  know  you  will  be." 

Then  she  was  gone. 

The  militia  began  to  come  in  from  Virginia  and 
Maryland.  There  was  spirit  enough  before  the  fight, 
but  of  discipline,  leadership,  preparation — nothing. 
They  tramped  into  Washington,  some  in  their  farmer 
clothes  and  with  the  sod  of  the  furrow  yet  on  them; 
others  wore  an  army  coat  and  homespun  jeans  trousers. 
A  few  had  complete  uniforms.  Most  of  them  had  their 
squirrel  rifles  and  could  not  have  fastened  bayonets  upon 
their  muzzles  if  it  had  been  in  the  power  of  the  Govern- 
ment to  give  them.  Many  had  no  ammunition  and  no- 
where to  obtain  it.  But  all  had  plenty  of  advice,  and, 
with  the  freedom  and  equality  of  our  country,  were  quite 
willing  to  give  it  to  the  President. 

Their  camp  fires  burned  in  the  streets  and  grounds  of 
"Washington  and  flared  through  the  nights,  while  the 
generals  built  defences  on  the  maps  and  the  weary  Presi- 
dent listened  to  more  advice  than  was  ever  before  given 
to  one  man  in  the  same  time.  Now  I  saw  how  civilians 
can  make  war,  and,  seeing,  I  wondered.  Somebody  said 
to  me: 

"  You  may  beat  them,  Ten  Broeck;  there  are  enough 
of  you.  But  do  all  armies  look  like  this?  " 

I  could  not  say  truthfully,  for  it  was  the  first  of  my 
knowledge,  but  I  hoped  not,  and,  at  last,  part  of  us 
marched  out  to  a  place  called  Old  Fields  to  meet  the  ad- 
vancing British,  where  we  promptly  ran,  and  ran  well,  at 
the  first  sight  of  the  enemy;  one  had  no  choice,  he  had 
to  keep  up  with  the  crowd,  and  back  we  came  to  Wash- 
ington, leaving  the  enemy  but  nine  miles  from  the 
capital. 

All  sorts  of  rumours  reached  us  that  the  British 
were  to  attack  at  this  point  or  that  point,  and  we 
inarched  from  one  to  the  other,  until  our  feet  grew  sore 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  FOE.  233 

and  our  muscles  ached  and  we  called  aloud  for  fight  or 
rest. 

The  days  grew  hotter,  the  sun  hlazed  on  us,  and  the 
dust  kicked  up  by  many  marching  feet  became  one  vast, 
interminable  cloud,  whitening  our  clothing,  plastering 
our  faces,  filling  eyes,  nose,  and  ears,  and  creeping  down 
our  throats.  Nothing  impressed  me  like  the  dust,  which, 
taking  the  place  of  atmosphere,  was  everywhere,  and  hot, 
tired,  and  hungry,  we  swore  at  it;  meanwhile,  our  con- 
fidence in  our  officers  and,  most  of  all,  in  ourselves  was 
slipping  away,  as  we  wore  out  both  strength  and  courage 
in  vain  and  useless  marches. 

We  heard  at  last  that  Bladensburg  would  be  the  bat- 
tlefield, and,  breathing  dust,  dripping  sweat,  and  swear- 
ing many  oaths,  we  marched  to  a  place  called  the  Wood 
Yard,  where  we  camped. 

We  did  not  know  yet  when  the  British  would  come, 
and  while  some  of  us  toiled  at  the  earthwork  others 
sought  the  rest  of  which  they  stood  in  so  much  need. 

We  were  scattered  over  a  plain  and  some  gentle  hills, 
and  the  men  who  were  not  busy  with  shovel  and  spade 
lay  upon  the  ground  panting  and  wiping  their  dripping 
faces.  A  confused  clamour,  the  thud  of  the  picks  as 
they  were  struck  into  the  earth,  the  rattle  of  weapons, 
and  the  hum  of  many  voices  floated  over  the  field. 
Sometimes  the  soldiers  quarrelled  with  their  officers  and 
disputed  their  orders,  and  now  and  then  an  excited 
horse,  breaking  from  its  owner,  would  gallop  through 
the  lines,  scattering  the  men  like  a  cavalry  charge  and 
drawing  a  stream  of  oaths  after  him. 

The  sun  shone  down  upon  us  with  a  hard  brilliancy 
that  relaxed  our  muscles,  shortened  our  breath,  and  found 
every  pore  in  our  bodies.  The  huge  dust  clouds  floated 
over  us  and  sometimes  hid  us,  and  we  were  blinded  and 
choked  by  the  drifting  particles.  I  saw  men  and  distant 
trees  as  if  through  a  haze,  and  the  shapes  of  both  were 
exaggerated  and  distorted.  The  world  was  awry. 
16 


234  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

"Is  it  not  better  to  fight  than  to  do  this,  Mr.  Ten 
Broeck?"  a  boy  of  sixteen  asked  of  me. 

I  could  not  say,  as  I  had  not  yet  fought,  but,  like  the 
others,  I  looked  eagerly  for  the  enemy,  feeling  that  any- 
thing was  better  than  the  waiting  and  vain  work  that  we 
were  doing. 

Mr.  Monroe,  the  Secretary  of  State,  who  had  seen 
service  in  the  Revolution,  a  brave  little  man  in  a  cocked 
hat  and  a  fine  uniform,  but  no  soldier,  was  there,  very 
much  in  the  way,  adding  to  the  confusion  of  General 
Winder,  our  commander  in  chief,  by  giving  advice,  of 
which  we  had  too  much  already,  and  which  was  bad  if 
taken. 

The  noises  that  arose  from  the  field  increased  in 
volume  and  variety.  The  men  talked  as  they  pleased, 
and,  while  willing  enough  to  work,  received  no  orders 
save  those  which  none  knew  how  to  obey.  The  regi- 
ments were  mixed,  and,  without  intending  it,  exchanged 
officers  and  men  with  perfect  freedom.  Sometimes  three 
or  four  companies  were  assigned  to  the  same  place,  and 
ours  received  no  place  at  all,  but  took  it.  We  were 
mostly  farmers  and  clerks  who  had  never  seen  war,  and 
we  proposed  to  wage  it  in  a  fashion  that  would  astonish 
all  the  great  generals  and  make  new  military  books  a 
necessity. 

The  twilight  was  coming,  and  the  camp  fires  flared 
here  and  there  on  the  field,  their  smoky  light  showing 
some  of  the  men  settling  the  issue  of  the  battle,  while 
others,  fantastic  shapes  in  the  dust  and  dusk,  toiled  with 
pick  and  spade  on  the  earthwork,  and  a  few  slept, 
stretched  flat  on  the  bare  ground.  Around  me  the  sound 
of  human  voices  did  not  decrease  as  the  night  approached, 
and  I  had  no  wish  for  sleep,  though  knowing  well  the 
need  of  it.  I  had  taken  my  turn  at  the  earthwork,  and 
lay  upon  the  ground,  listening  to  the  noises  of  the  camp 
and  watching  the  fretting  army.  This  was  not  war  as 
I  had  pictured  it:  the  ordered  march  of  battalions,  each 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  FOE.  235 

soldier  in  his  place,  knowing  his  duty  and  doing  it  in 
silence  and  obedience;  but  I  saw,  instead,  men  ignorant, 
confused,  and  wasting  their  strength,  officers  who  were 
no  officers,  and  a  camp  that  was  not  a  camp,  but  merely 
some  thousands  of  human  beings  herded  together. 

The  sun  had  gone  down  in  a  blaze  of  reddish  gold 
behind  the  western  hills  and  the  twilight  was  deepening 
into  night,  heavy,  sticky,  and  hotter  than  the  day,  no 
breath  of  wind  stirring  the  layers  of  damp,  dusty  vapour 
that  we  called  air.  The  camp  fires  rose  and  increased  in 
number.  All  around  me  they  twinkled  and  sent  up 
coils  of  smoke  that  thickened  and  poisoned  the  already 
thick  and  poisonous  air. 

Coffee  and  food  were  served,  and  sometimes  a  tumult 
and  a  struggle  arose  over  it;  the  coffee  was  spilled,  soak- 
ing into  the  earth,  and  the  food  was  trampled  and  ground 
into  the  mud  that  had  formed. 

The  men  still  laboured  at  the  earthwork,  though  in 
diminished  numbers,  and  the  noises  began  to  decrease, 
part  of  the  army  being  asleep  on  the  ground,  and  another 
part  too  tired  to  talk  or  grumble  longer.  The  fires  were 
sinking,  and  the  dusky  rim  that  encircled  the  army  crept 
up  closer.  Seen  through  the  light  of  the  fires  it  was  a 
grayish,  impervious  darkness,  silent  and  yet  full  of  threat. 
I  wondered  what  would  come  out  of  its  shadow,  and  if 
the  enemy  were  marching  through  it  toward  us.  I  put 
my  ear  to  the  earth,  thinking  I  might  hear  the  tread 
of  the  advancing  regiments,  but  there  was  only  the  noise 
of  our  camp. 

Some  of  the  lights  went  out  and  the  darkness  in- 
vaded the  camp  itself,  but  the  damp  heat,  increased  by 
the  fires,  clung  close  to  the  earth  and  coiled  itself  around 
'us.  I  could  hear  the  men  gasping  for  air  and  cursing 
because  they  could  not  sleep.  I,  too,  tried  to  sleep,  but 
sleep  eluded  me,  and  I  stared  with  aching,  dust-burnt 
eyes  over  the  army  that  sprawled  across  the  field  and  into 
the  darkness.  I  sat  up  and  saw  our  lawyer-general  strid- 


236  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

ing  about,  followed  by  his  composite  staff,  which  tangled 
itself  up  occasionally  with  its  swords  and  then  swore  in 
wicked  variety  and  profusion.  The  general  visited  the 
earthwork,  disapproved  of  most  that  had  been  done,  and, 
ordering  it  to  be  done  over  again,  strode  back  to  his  tent, 
with  his  jingling  and  composite  staff  striding  after  him. 
Around  me  fires  still  flared  and  the  smoke  drifted  in  our 
faces,  the  tumult  of  voices  still  floated  over  the  field,  and 
from  the  earthwork  came  the  ring  of  pick  and  the  rasp 
of  spade. 

Some  one  touched  me  on  the  arm  and  said,  "  Mr.  Ten 
Broeck."  I  looked  up  and  saw  a  tall  man  in  sailor 
dress,  and  for  a  few  moments  I  did  not  recognise  him, 
but  then  I  knew  it  was  the  seaman  Patterson,  whom  we 
had  helped  to  escape  from  the  Guerriere,  but  much 
changed  now,  for  his  strength  had  come  back  and  he 
looked  vigorous  and  ready. 

"I'm  glad  to  see  you,  Patterson,"  I  said.  "What 
is  it?" 

"I'm  with  the  marines  under  Barney  back  there," 
he  said,  "  and  I'm  just  returning  with  a  despatch  that 
the  commodore  sent  to  the  general,  and  as  I  saw  you  sit- 
ting here  I  thought  I'd  speak  to  you.  I  want  to  tell  you 
to  look  out  for  yourself  in  the  battle  and  after." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  '  after '?  " 

"  That  this  is  not  the  way  to  beat  the  British — not 
with  an  army  like  this." 

He  hurried  on  and  left  me  to  believe  that  his  words 
were  true  and  to  feel  discouragement.  I  dozed  after  a 
while  and  saw  a  vapoury  field,  peopled  by  ghosts,  but  I 
was  aroused  by  a  shout  and  the  blare  of  a  thousand 
voices  in  excited  talk.  At  the  edge  of  the  camp  I  saw  a 
crowd  of  men  jammed  closely  together. 

"What  is  it?"  I  asked  of  a  comrade. 

"  The  President  has  arrived,"  he  said. 

I  arose,  and,  walking  toward  the  crowd,  found  that  he 
had  reported  correctly.  The  President  of  the  United 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  FOE.  237 

States  had  come  at  midnight  to  see  his  army.  He  rode 
a  gray  horse,  and  was  bent  at  the  shoulders;  his  face 
was  older,  more  pinched,  and  more  anxious  than  ever. 
With  him  came  the  Secretary  of  War,  the  Secretary  of 
the  Navy,  and  the  Attorney-General,  and  as  the  Secretary 
of  State  was  among  us  already,  we  had  almost  an  entire 
Cabinet  there  to  give  us  advice  and  tell  us  how  to  beat 
an  enemy. 

I  did  not  watch  them  long,  nor  in  truth  could  I  have 
found  much  chance  to  do  so  had  I  wished  it,  for  half 
our  army,  whole  companies  leaving  their  places,  swarmed 
around  the  President  to  see  him,  to  hear  what  he  had  to 
say,  and,  if  necessary,  to  tell  him  what  they  thought. 
I  tried  again  to  sleep,  and  when  at  last  I  dozed  for  the 
second  time  all  the  noises  of  an  army  talking  at  high 
rate  and  wandering  around  its  encampment,  like  wild 
beasts  in  a  cage,  filled  my  ears.  Between  half-shut  eye- 
lids I  could  see  hundreds  of  figures  moving  and  bending 
in  the  light  of  the  dying  fires,  and  as  many  others  farther 
away  were  lost  in  the  thickening  darkness. 

I  was  awakened  once  by  an  alarm  that  the  British 
had  come,  and  for  awhile  we  were  in  a  terrible  tumult 
trying  to  find  just  where  the  enemy  was  and  just  how 
we  should  fight  him,  but  it  was  only  a  sentinel  firing  his 
gun  at  a  tree,  which  he  had  mistaken  for  the  advancing 
army. 

Angry  and  swearing  in  tune  with  a  thousand  others, 
I  sought  my  six  and  a  half  feet  of  earth  again  and 
stretched  myself  upon  it.  to  fall  asleep  anew  amid  all 
the  tumult  of  voices  and  the  tread  of  restless  feet.  When 
I  awoke  the  day  was  shining,  the  enemy  had  not  yet 
come,  and  the  army  took  breakfast,  broiling  it  over  the 
coals  or  taking  it  already  cooked  and  cold  from  pockets 
and  knapsacks,  and  gnawing  with  sharp  teeth  and  sharper 
appetites.  Though  it  was  the  hottest  part  of  the  year, 
there  was  some  chill  in  the  August  dawn,  which  soon  fled 
before  the  breakfast  fires  and  the  rising  sun.  I  was 


238  A  HEKALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

eating  a  piece  of  bacon  when  Cyrus  Pendleton,  in  a 
militia  uniform  and  quivering  all  over  with  anger,  came 
to  me  and  said: 

"Do  you  know  what  we  are  going  to  do  now,  Philip?  " 

"Fight?" 

"  Not  at  all.  We  are  going  to  have  a  dress  parade 
and  review  by  the  President,  and  we  don't  even  know 
where  the  enemy  is  and  when  or  where  he  is  going  to 
strike.  What  an  army!  What  generals!  Civilians  led 
by  civilians.  Five  hundred  of  our  old  Western  Indian 
fighters  could  go  through  them  all  like  wolves  through  a 
flock  of  sheep." 

Then  he  tramped  angrily  off  to  pour  his  disgust  into 
the  ears  of  others.  But  we  had  our  review,  with  its  evo- 
lutions and  its  new  clouds  of  dust,  and  the  President  said 
it  was  a  brave  army,  though  it  was  a  very  tired  and 
noisy  one.  When  it  was  over  I  met  Bidwell,  covered 
with  mud  and  dust,  and  far  from  looking  the  blossoming 
dandy  who  had  bade  fair  to  rival  Van  Steenkerk  in  time. 
But  our  feeling  that  we  were  fellow-martyrs  made  us 
friends  at  last,  and  we  condoled  together,  after  which  we 
began  to  march  about  again,  as  if  it  were  our  object  to 
make  a  certain  number  of  circles  around  Washington 
within  a  given  time.  We  did  this  with  great  zeal  and 
industry  for  a  day,  in  order  that  no  strength  or  spirit 
might  be  left  in  us,  and  then  fell  back  toward  Washing- 
ton. All  the  while  I  knew  that  the  British  were  some- 
where near  us,  for  the  crack  of  a  rifle  shot  would  now 
and  then  come  from  the  woods,  and  from  the  horizon  a 
little  puff  of  smoke  would  rise,  telling  us  that  this  was 
war  and  not  a  foot  race. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE   BLADENSBURG   RACES. 

JUST  as  we  had  finished  falling  back  the  news  came 
that  the  British  were  marching  direct  on  Bladenshurg, 
and  we  poured  forward  again  in  our  old  tracks  to  meet 
them,  covered  with  sweat  and  dust  and  our  bones  full 
of  the  weariness  of  five  days  and  nights  of  nearly  con- 
tinuous marching. 

"  I'll  bet  you  a  dollar,  Ten  Broeck,"  said  Bidwell  to 
me  as  we  tugged  and  panted  in  the  hot  sun,  "  that  when 
we  get  to  Bladensburg  we'll  find  that  it's  the  only  place 
without  its  British." 

On  we  went  under  the  hot  sky  and  through  the  drift- 
ing dust,  which  rasped  our  throats  and  filled  our  eyes 
and  whitened  us  at  last  into  the  semblance  of  a  common 
uniform.  Stray  puffs  of  wind  caught  up  the  dust  and 
whirled  it  about  us  and  over  us  in  vast  impenetrable 
clouds. 

We  might  have  been  despondent,  we  might  have  been 
weak  of  heart  as  well  as  knee,  but  we  had  such  good  com- 
pany, for  the  President  and  his  whole  Cabinet  galloped 
along  with  us,  sharing  in  our  sweat,  our  dust,  and  our 
weariness.  As  we  dragged  the  long,  lame  line  of  the 
army  over  a  little  hill  we  heard  the  faint  crack  of  scat- 
tered rifle  shots  off  Bladensburg  way,  and  on  the  dusty 
horizon  we  could  see  the  smoke.  While  we  listened  the 
shots  swelled  to  a  volley  and  the  puffs  of  smoke  gath- 
ered into  a  cloud.  This  smelled  of  battle,  and  we  quick- 
ened our  tired  pace.  The  firing  increased,  and  the  rattle 

239 


240  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

of  the  rifles  was  punctuated  by  the  deeper  boom  of  can- 
non. Bidwell  was  wrong;  Bladensburg  was  the  one 
place  with  its  British,  and  I  believed  that,  in  truth,  we 
were  about  to  have  a  battle.  So  did  the  others,  for  many 
at  once  undertook  its  management,  and  the  only  thing 
upon  which  all  agreed  was  the  necessity  to  hasten  on. 
Amid  noise  and  confusion  we  broke  into  a  trot,  while 
the  sun  grew  hotter  and  hotter  and  the  clouds  of  dust 
bigger  and  thicker,  hiding  from  us  the  smoke-bank  over 
Bladensburg  and  the  flare  of  the  firing  there.  But  noth- 
ing could  shut  out  from  our  ears  the  incessant  crack  of  the 
rifles  and  the  rolling  crash  of  the  artillery.  Sometimes, 
as  the  smoke  lifted,  I  could  see  around  me  the  white 
faces  of  the  raw  civilians,  who  had  never  before  known 
anything  more  formidable  than  the  plough  handle  or  the 
yardstick,  and  the  talk,  the  clamour  of  many  voices,  sank 
in  a  way  that  was  sudden  and  suggestive. 

We  knew  that  some  Baltimore  troops  were  already  on 
the  field,  and  it  was  they  who  were  holding  it  against 
the  attack  of  the  British  army  which  must  prevail  soon 
over  men  so  few  in  number  unless  we  came  up  in  time 
to  help  them. 

"Forward!"  shouted  everybody,  and  we  who  had  be- 
lieved an  hour  ago  that  we  could  not  walk  another  step 
broke  into  a  run,  leaving  the  dust  clouds  rolling  behind 
us.  A  cheer  from  our  comrades  already  on  the  field 
saluted  us  as  we  rushed  forward  to  join  them,  and  we  be- 
gan to  tread  upon  each  other  in  an  effort  to  find  our 
proper  places  in  the  line  of  battle.  The  rifles  were  pop- 
ping all  around  us,  and  a  cannon  boomed  out  so  suddenly 
at  my  side  that  I  jumped  into  the  air.  I  could  see  from 
their  white  faces  that  the  stomachs  of  many  of  the  clerks 
and  farmers  were  growing  weak,  now  that  they  were  to 
stand  in  line  and  face  the  fire  of  the  enemy. 

The  smoke  clouds  were  hanging  high  in  the  clear  hot 
air,  and,  being  able  to  breathe  at  the  normal  rate  again, 
I  looked  toward  the  enemy.  In  front  of  us  ran  the  slight 


THE  BLADENSBURG  RACES.  241 

and  shallow  Eastern  Branch,  and  on  the  hills  beyond  it 
the  houses  of  the  shambling  village  of  Bladensburg 
gleamed  through  the  trees.  But  the  tired  little  place 
now  saw  a  martial  sight,  for  the  whole  British  army  was 
marching  through  it  to  the  attack.  I  could  see  them, 
line  after  line,  in  solid,  even  red  ranks,  banners  aloft,  the 
drums  beating  the  steady  rub-a-dub,  while  the  fifes 
played  a  shriller  tune.  The  polished  bayonets  shone  in 
the  sunlight,  and  in  front  of  the  squares  the  sharpshoot- 
ers lurked  among  the  bushes  on  the  river  bank  and  fired 
steadily  upon  us.  From  these  bushes  came  spouts  of 
flame  and  the  sudden  red  gleam  of  a  sharpshooter's  coat, 
and  above  them  rose  the  frequent  white  puffs  of  smoke 
which  gathered  together  higher  up  and  made  the  cloud- 
bank. 

It  was  a  splendid  spectacle,  and  for  a  moment  my 
heart  stirred  at  the  sight,  the  first  regular  army  that  I 
had  ever  seen.  These  were  veterans  who  had  been  fight- 
ing Napoleon's  French  in  Spain  for  years,  and  knew 
what  war  was  and  how  to  meet  it.  Then  I  sickened  as 
I  looked  around  at  our  own  raw  levies — good  stuff,  but 
untried,  unled,  half -armed,  unfed,  and  tired  to  death. 
Farther  off  I  could  see  the  President  himself  on  horse- 
back looking  across  the  river  at  the  British,  and  behind 
him,  also  on  horseback,  clustered  the  Cabinet. 

Zip!  zip!  a  bullet  knocked  up  the  dust  at  my  feet. 

"Stand  back  there  a  little,  Ten  Broeck!"  sang  out 
some  one;  "  you're  as  big  as  a  house  and  make  as  good  a 
target! " 

I  moved  the  house  back,  and  then  a  captain  ordered 
us  to  fire.  Crash  ran  the  volley  along  our  line.  I  sent 
my  bullet  into  the  bushes  on  the  other  bank,  but  whether 
•it  hit  anything  I  know  not,  for  the  smoke  of  our  volley 
thickened  the  air  before  us  and  I  could  not  see.  Pres- 
ently the  smoke  drifted  away  again,  and  I  could  see 
the  red  squares  in  the  village  pressing  on  toward  the 
river,  while  the  fire  of  the  sharpshooters  in  front  grew 


242  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

fiercer  and  hotter.  Bullets  began  to  whistle  around  us 
again,  and  to  draw  blood  and  to  take  life.  Our  ranks 
were  jostled  about,  and  the  orders  became  mixed  and 
multiplied.  We  knew  but  one  thing  to  do,  and  that  was 
to  load  and  fire  as  fast  as  we  could.  Some  forgot  to  take 
the  ramrods  out  of  their  rifles,  and  they  whizzed  through 
the  air  toward  Bladensburg  to  join  the  other  projectiles, 
which  now  formed  a  steady  stream. 

We  fought  with  zeal,  but  without  order.  The  firing 
was  irregular,  not  by  volleys;  first  a  pattering  rain  of 
bullets,  then  the  crash  of  a  hundred  rifles,  and  then  the 
rising  and  falling  crackle  of  gunshots  quickly  succeed- 
ing each  other.  Men  were  falling  near  me,  and  some 
were  crying  out  as  the  bullets  struck  them,  while  others 
took  their  wounds  in  silence.  Some  faces  were  white, 
others  blood  red;  what  my  own  was  I  knew  not.  I  felt 
at  first  a  strange  nervous  weakness,  an  inclination  to 
collapse,  as  if  all  the  marrow  had  been  taken  out  of  my 
bones,  but  as  I  loaded  and  fired  my  rifle  and  the  shout- 
ing and  roaring  of  the  battle  increased  it  passed  away, 
and  a  fierce  desire  to  sweep  forward  with  the  whole  army 
and  overwhelm  the  enemy  took  its  place. 

The  air  became  almost  too  heavy  for  breath.  The 
smoke  clouds,  which  hung  high  when  we  came  upon  the 
field,  now  lay  close  to  the  ground,  and  great  columns 
and  pyramids  of  dust  mingled  with  them,  making  us 
gasp  and  choke  as  we  fought.  Our  excited  eyes  looking 
through  this  dull  haze  magnified  and  distorted  every- 
thing. The  soldiers  in  red,  seen  dimly  on  the  other 
shore,  £rew  to  slants  without  shape. 

We  could  have  seen  little  in  this  thickening  veil  of 
smoke  and  dust  without  the  flash  of  the  firing.  The 
points  of  flame  twinkled  by  hundreds  as  the  rifles  were 
discharged,  fused  and  ran  like  a  sword  of  light  along  the 
front  of  either  army,  broadened  and  deepened  here  and 
there  by  the  blaze  of  a  cannon  shot.  The  crash  of  the 
rifles  and  the  boom  of  the  cannon  had  united  into  a  steady 


THE  BLADENSBURG   RACES.  243 

roar,  but  sometimes  the  torrent  of  the  shouting  swelled 
above  it.  We  were  a  new  army,  and  the  men  found  that 
the  battle  fever  rose  with  the  use  of  their  own  voices,  and 
mingled  with  this  shouting,  too,  we  heard  sometimes 
the  groans  of  the  wounded.  They  were  thick  among  us, 
and  the  dead  lay  on  the  earth,  which  was  wet  and 
soaked  with  blood.  Tiny  red  streams  flowed  between  the 
hillocks,  and  were  then  trampled  into  the  earth  by  heavy 
boots.  The  reek  of  the  army  arose,  and  the  smell  of  the 
blood  and  sweat  and  wet  uniforms  offended  our  nostrils. 

I  remembered  how  hot  and  clammy  it  was.  The  banks 
of  smoke  and  vapour  enveloped  us  like  a  breath  from  a 
prairie  fire,  and  I  wiped  my  dripping  face  more  than  once 
with  the  sleeve  of  my  coat.  Even  in  the  fury  of  the 
battle  I  felt  my  throat  parching  for  water,  and  I  raised 
my  canteen  to  my  lips  and  drank  deeply.  Many  others 
were  doing  the  same.  How  good  it  felt  as  it  went  down 
and  cut  away  the  coated  dust!  I  shouted  with  new 
vigour  and  loaded  and  fired  my  rifle  faster  than  before, 
aiming  merely  at  the  red  haze  in  front  and  never  seeing 
whether  the  bullet  hit  or  missed. 

My  ears  were  filled  with  the  crackle  of  the  rifles  and 
muskets  and  the  roar  of  the  artillery,  but  through  the 
smoke  and  dust  I  could  see  that  the  enemy  across  the 
shallow  stream  was  pushing  all  his  forces  to  the  attack. 
Suddenly  he  opened  fire  with  Congreve  rockets,  a  missile 
new  to  us,  which  added  with  their  flame  and  strange 
shriek  to  the  confusion  among  the  hasty  levies.  They 
poured  showers  of  these  upon  us,  and  under  cover  of 
their  fire  a  heavy  red  column  rushed  upon  the  bridge. 

The  column  advanced  at  the  double  quick  in  beau- 
tiful order.  Above  the  crackle  of  the  rifles,  the  pound- 
ing of  the  artillery,  and  the  hissing  of  the  rockets  I  could 
hear  the  steady  beat  of  their  drums  and  the  wailing  of 
the  fifes.  They  were  on  the  bridge  now,  a  solid  red 
mass,  rushing  forward,  the  rear  ranks  pressing  on  those 
in  front.  The  artillery  and  the  rifles  opened  upon  them 


244:  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

there,  pouring  balls  and  bullets  into  the  solid  mass.  I 
could  see  men  falling  from  the  bridge  into  the  shallow 
stream,  which  in  some  places  was  not  deep  enough  to 
hide  their  bodies,  and  there  they  lay,  their  red  coats 
showing  above  the  surface  of  the  water  and  blazing  in 
the  sunshine;  others,  though  dead,  were  held  upright  in 
the  solid  ranks  and  were  carried  on  in  the  rush  of  their 
living  companions.  Behind  them  their  artillery  in  the 
village  replied  to  ours,  and  the  air  was  filled  with  the 
hissing  and  shrieking  rockets.  The  dust  trampled  up 
by  many  men  rose  in  clouds,  and  mingling  with  the 
smoke  made  a  dense,  reddish-brown  fog  bank.  Our  men, 
untrained  soldiers,  excited  and  eager,  were  shouting  at 
everything,  and  the  roar  of  many  voices,  mingling  with 
the  thunder  of  the  cannonade  and  the  musketry,  stunned 
our  ears  with  a  tumult  that  ceased  not. 

Their  sharpshooters  swarmed  along  the  river  bank, 
hiding  behind  bushes,  trees,  and  weeds  and  crawling  in 
the  mud,  and  their  fire  was  more  deadly  to  us  than  that 
of  the  artillery  and  rockets.  I  could  hear  the  whistling 
of  the  little  bullets  all  around  me,  and  while  we  poured 
our  fire  into  the  column  on  the  bridge  the  fringe  of  sharp- 
shooters on  the  bank  broadened,  crept  forward  in  the 
mud  and  water,  and  avenged  their  comrades  who  were 
falling  in  the  charge.  Our  raw  army,  bruised  and  bleed- 
ing, felt  the  sting  of  these  hornets,  and  some  cried  out 
that  we  must  clear  the  bushes  and  weeds  of  the  sharp- 
shooters, but  the  officers  shouted  to  them  to  turn  all  their 
fire  on  the  bridge.  But  scattering  shots,  the  eddies  from 
the  main  current  of  our  fire,  were  sent  at  the  sharpshoot- 
ers, and  more  than  one  of  the  crawling  forms  in  red 
ceased  to  crawl  and  lay  still  forever.  I  marked  a  man  who 
was  up  almost  to  his  waist  in  the  water,  ahead  of  all  his 
comrades,  seeking  the  shelter  of  a  bush  or  a  bunch  of 
weeds,  and  firing  at  us  from  every  covert.  Presently  he 
straightened  up,  dropped  his  rifle,  and  fell  backward,  his 
body  disappearing  beneath  the  water.  If  it  came  up 


THE  BLADENSBURG  RACES.  245 

again  I  did  not  see  it,  for  I  turned  my  eyes  to  the  men 
upon  the  bridge — our  real  danger. 

They  were  halfway  across  the  stream,  advancing  in 
solid  ranks,  shoulder  to  shoulder,  knee  to  knee — a  col- 
umn that  filled  the  bridge  from  side  to  side — and  the  lift- 
ing of  the  smoke  at  intervals  let  me  see  the  faces  of  the 
front-rank  men,  browned  most  of  them  by  Spanish  suns, 
their  eyes  gleaming  with  the  excitement  which  even  veter- 
ans feel  in  the  charge.  Into  this  solid  column  of  men  the 
bullets  were  pattering,  and  a  man  would  fall,  to  be 
shoved  back  by  the  feet  of  his  companions  while  another 
took  his  place. 

"  We'll  beat  'em!  We'll  beat  'em  back!  "  shouted  some 
one,  and  the  column  on  the  bridge,  in  truth,  was  falter- 
ing before  the  fire  that  was  scorching  away  their  front 
ranks,  but  at  that  moment  a  body  of  militia  just  in  front 
of  us  received  a  tremendous  discharge  of  the  rockets,  and 
began  to  quiver  and  reel  like  one  who  has  suffered  a  mor- 
tal blow.  "Run!  Run!"  shouted  somebody  among 
them,  and  the  panic  terror  in  his  voice  spread  like  a 
plague.  In  a  second  a  hundred  were  crying  "Run! 
Run! "  and  these  citizen  soldiers,  confused,  filled  with 
dread  of  things  they  saw  and  did  not  see,  staggered  back 
and  were  lost.  Their  companies  dissolved  like  a  snow- 
ball before  the  sun,  and  by  the  time  we  knew  what  ailed 
them  they  were  streaming  past  us,  a  mob  in  a  panic,  a 
wild  riot  of  terrified  fugitives,  all  order,  courage,  pride, 
gone,  and  only  speed  to  save  left. 

"  Oh,  you  cowards! "  I  heard  Cyrus  Pendleton  shout, 
and  then  he  swore  frightfully. 

But  they  were  not  cowards  by  nature,  they  simply  did 
not  know  better  and  did  not  have  the  soldier's  training. 
Be  that  as  it  may,  they  were  gone,  and  the  shattered 
columns  on  the  bridge,  seeing  them  go,  raised  a  cheer 
and  came  on  again,  the  drums  and  the  fifes  playing  back 
their  courage.  But  our  companies  closed  in  on  the 
ground  that  the  others  had  left,  and  our  fire,  slack  for  a 


246  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

,r 

few  minutes,  increased  in  vigour.  Behind  us  we  heard 
a  great  swell  in  the  shouting  and  were  told  that  it  was 
more  of  the  army  arriving  on  the  battlefield,  coming  in 
a  run  many  miles  under  the  hot  sun  and  through  the 
thick  dust,  only  to  reach  us  with  broken  breathing,  stiff- 
ened knees,  dry  hot  tongues  hanging  out,  and  no  knowl- 
yedge  of  what  place  to  take  and  none  to  tell  them.  Some 
of  the  Baltimore  militia  had  come  sixteen  miles  without 
a  rest  and  were  dead  on  their  feet. 

But  the  red  columns  in  front,  crumbling  before  our 
fire,  reeled  again  and  broke  to  pieces.  The  companies 
dissolved,  and  men  hiding  among  the  dense  bushes  which 
clothed  the  banks  of  the  stream  were  protected  from  the 
fire  of  our  artillery,  which  could  not  be  deflected  enough, 
because  of  the  lay  of  the  ground,  to  reach  them.  Then 
we  began  to  gather  more  courage  and  to  cheer. 

"  We  may  beat  ?em  yet,  Phil,"  said  Cyrus  Pen- 
dleton. 

He  was  loading  and  firing  a  rifle  like  a  sharpshooter. 
The  thick  dust  had  made  a  mask  of  his  face,  but  the 
sweat  rolling  down  it  in  streams  had  striped  it  in  such 
manner  that  he  looked  like  an  Indian  in  his  most  hideous 
war  paint. 

The  fire  poured  on  us  from  Bladensburg  increased. 
The  English,  beholding  the  repulse  of  their  first  attack, 
pushed  forward  all  their  artillery  and  fired  with  swiftness 
and  precision,  while  their  riflemen  swarmed  along  the 
river  front  and  seconded  the  big  guns  with  volleys  less 
noisy  but  as  deadly.  Men  began  to  fall  rapidly  in  our 
ranks,  and  groans  mingled  with  the  multiplied  and  con- 
fusing orders.  Faces  of  farmers  and  clerks  grew  white 
again,  and  our  lines  shook  and  reeled  about. 

The  British  suddenly  rushed  forward  a  second  time 
in  massive  columns,  re-enforcing  the  defeated  men  who 
were  hiding  in  the  bushes,  and  then  burst  upon  us  with 
the  full  strength  of  their  army,  their  batteries  playing 
on  our  lines  at  their  highest  pressure.  Again  that  ter- 


THE  BLADENSBURG  RACES.  247 

rible  cry  of  panic  and  terror,  the  worst  of  all  things,  rose 
from  our  ranks. 

"We  are  beaten!"  shouted  some  one  when  we  were 
not  beaten,  but  he  made  it  so,  for  a  hundred  took  up  the 
cry,  and  a  group  of  riflemen,  commanded  by  our  late 
minister  to  England,  lost  their  courage  and  ran  away, 
spreading  panic  around  them.  The  men  of  a  battery  who 
knew  how  to  shoot,  but  not  to  fight,  caught  the  plague 
of  fear,  and,  throwing  down  their  rammers,  competed 
in  the  foot  race.  A  terrible  tumult,  such  as  I  hope  never 
to  see  again  in  this  world,  arose  in  our  army.  The  mad 
terror  ran  from  company  to  company,  and  the  showers 
of  cannon  balls,  rockets,  and  rifle  bullets  falling  upon  us 
hastened  it  and  added  to  the  clamour  and  jumble  of  the 
disordered  army.  Those  who  ran  trampled  upon  or  swept 
away  by  force  of  might  those  who  would  stand,  and  the 
shouts  and  commands  of  the  officers  were  lost  amid  the 
more  numerous  shouts  of  the  men.  Some  of  the  officers 
and  some  of  the  men,  too,  bore  themselves  with  supreme 
courage,  now  firing  upon  the  foe  who  was  pressing  against 
us,  and  then  trying  to  reform  our  lines  and  win  back  the 
fugitives.  One  of  the  wildest  and  most  furious  of  them 
all  was  Cyrus  Pendleton,  the  Indian  fighter  and  fur 
trader,  who,  rifle  in  hand,  yelled  defiance  at  the  enemy 
and  then  reproached  the  fugitives  with  their  cowardice. 

"Stand,  men!  Stand,  in  God's  name!"  he  cried. 
"We  can  beat  'em!  Look,  here  come  the  sailors! 
They'll  fight!  Don't  you  see  'em?  " 

What  he  said  was  true,  for  our  best  men,  the  marines 
and  sailors  under  Barney,  who  fought  then  as  they  fought 
throughout  the  war,  with  disciplined  order  and  un- 
flinching bravery,  were  just  then  arriving  upon  the  field 
and  getting  into  position,  even  as  the  rout  had  already 
begun.  But  their  steady  front  had  no  effect  upon  the 
others,  for  the  plague  of  fear  spread  by  the  red  rain  of 
the  British  artillery  was  eating  into  the  hearts  of  them 
all.  Away  went  a  Baltimore  regiment  after  the  other 


248  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

fugitives,  and  in  its  wild  rush  I  saw  the  President  and 
his  Cabinet  caught  up  by  the  press  of  numbers  and  car- 
ried off  through  no  choice  of  theirs,,  thouglTft  was  a  lucky 
chance  for  them  and  us. 

Fear  ran  through  the  ranks  like  fire  in  dry  grass. 
Men  who  had  been  fighting  bravely  a  minute  before  were 
seized  with  a  delirium  of  terror,  and  ran,  knocking 
against  their  comrades  in  their  headlong  flight  and  trip- 
ping over  the  dead  and  wounded.  One  squad  fired  into 
another  squad,  taking  them  for  attacking  British,  but 
others  threw  away  their  arms,  their  rifles  pattering  in 
the  dust  and  mud,  and  some,  to  lighten  themselves  for 
flight,  stripped  off  their  coats  and  flung  them  down. 
They  were  not  soldiers,  but  civilians,  untrained,  unled, 
whose  faculties  had  been  mastered  by  a  sudden,  unrea- 
soning fear,  a  conviction  that  the  battle  was  lost — when, 
in  fact,  the  time  to  win  it  had  just  come — and  they  obeyed 
the  only  instinct  that  was  left  to  them — self-preservation. 

Unarmed,  hatless,  coatless,  the  terrified  battalions 
rushed  by,  a  mob  of  wild  and  shouting  fugitives.  The 
dust  stirred  by  so  many  trampling  feet  rose  again  in 
clouds  bigger  and  denser  than  ever,  and  hid  part  of  the 
shame  of  such  a  flight,  while  the  British  fire  scorched 
the  rear  of  the  mob  and  urged  it  to  greater  speed.  A 
wild  tumult  of  shouting  rolled  over  the  plain,  and  the 
horrible  reek  of  mud  and  blood  and  sweat  became  over- 
powering. 

The  sight  of  all  these  men,  soldiers  they  called  them- 
selves, running  so  fast  and  giving  themselves  up  to  such 
an  ecstasy  of  terror  had  in  it  something  strangely  lu- 
dicrous. Here  was  a  rich  merchant,  a  man  of  dignity, 
running  like  a  boy;  and  there  a  lawyer,  and  yonder  a 
doctor,  and  the  look  on  their  faces,  when  the  dust  was 
not  too  thick  for  my  eyes  to  penetrate  it,  was  so  wild,  so 
distorted,  that  they  seemed  hideous  travesties  of  men. 
Then,  too,  they  wasted  so  much  strength  in  shouting  and 
thev  fell  over  each  other  so  often  that  the  show  be- 


THE  BLADENSBURG  RACES.  249 

came  the  most  amusing  I  had  ever  seen.  I  laughed  until 
I  was  stopped  by  the  sound  of  my  own  voice,  which  was 
hysterical,  and  then  I  perceived  how  unnatural  my  laugh- 
ter had  been  and  that  it  was  the  laugh  of  tragedy,  not  of 
comedy. 

I  could  have  cried  now  with  rage  as  I  saw  many 
others  crying,  and  for  the  moment  I  knew  not  what  to 
do;  our  soldiers  were  fleeing  away  like  a  herd  of  buffaloes 
in  a  panic  rushing  over  a  plain,  cannon  balls  and  bullets 
whizzed  around  us,  clouds  of  smoke  and  dust  drove  in 
our  faces,  and  one  who  did  not  wish  to  run  must  be  in 
doubt  what  else  to  do. 

"  Let's  join  the  sailors  and  make  a  fight  of  it! " 
shouted  a  voice  in  my  rear  as  a  hand  fell  upon  my  arm. 

I  looked  around  and  saw  Bidwell,  a  smoking  rifle  in 
his  hand,  his  face  covered  with  dust  and  grime.  But 
the  light  of  battle  was  shining  in  his  eyes,  and  I  knew  that 
the  lazy  dandy  had  awakened  into  the  man  of  courage 
and  action.  I  had  been  mistaken  in  him,  and  I  wanted 
to  say  so  to  him  then,  but  there  was  no  time,  for  we  had  to 
make  instant  choice  between  joining  the  sailors,  running, 
or  being  taken.  The  British  army  was  almost  upon  us, 
and  we  dashed  at  full  speed  toward  the  sailors,  who  had 
stopped  on  a  hilltop  and  were  putting  in  position  a  bat- 
tery of  five  guns.  We  saw  Cyrus  Pendleton  on  the  way 
swept  off  his  feet  by  a  mass  of  fugitives,  but  we  gave 
him  a  rescuing  hand  and  he  ran  with  us  to  the  battery, 
where  we  dropped  down  behind  the  guns  and  began  to 
reload  our  rifles. 

We  had  a  few  moments  for  breath,  and  I  looked 
at  the  army  streaming  in  mad  haste  and  terror  from  the 
field.  We  were  on  a  low  hilltop,  and  the  fugitives  poured 
around  us  and  by  us  as  if  we  were  a  rock  in  the  middle 
of  a  torrent.  But  among  the  sailors  and  marines  there 
was  perfect  order,  though  they  were  only  four  hundred 
against  ten  or  fifteen  times  their  number,  for  our  army 
was  now  disappearing  on  the  Washington  road,  leaving  a 
17 


250  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

trail  of  dropped  weapons  and  a  vast  cloud  of  hovering 
dust  to  mark  its  flight. 

I  saw  the  sailor  Patterson  at  one  of  the  guns,  and  he 
noticed  me  too,  for  he  said: 

"  We  can't  beat  'em  now,  Mr.  Ten  Broeck,  but  we'll 
let  'em  know  they've  had  a  battle." 

The  cannoneers  were  loading  their  pieces,  and  for  a 
moment  there  was  a  pause  in  the  rush  of  the  battle,  while 
the  British  prepared  to  hurl  the  full  strength  of  their 
army  upon  our  little  force.  Far  away  toward  Washing- 
ton was  the  immense  cloud  of  dust  which  rolled  over 
our  fleeing  men  and  followed  them  as  a  banner  of  dis- 
grace. About  the  field  lay  dead  bodies,  the  enemy's  and 
ours,  and  some  of  the  hurt  sat  up  and  tried  to  tend 
their  sores. 

The  British  were  now  abreast  of  us  in  the  main  road, 
and  our  commander  shouted  to  the  battery  to  fire.  All 
five  guns  were  discharged  at  once,  and  the  round  shot 
plunged  straight  into  the  solid  ranks  of  the  British.  I 
saw  their  army  quiver  and  give  to  the  shock,  but  in  a 
moment  they  recovered  and  swept  upon  us  in  a  long  and 
deep  semicircular  line  which  threatened  to  envelop  and 
strangle  us. 

But  the  sailors  were  expert  at  the  guns;  they  re- 
loaded with  incredible  speed  and  poured  another  deadly 
volley  at  close  range  into  the  charging  ranks.  When 
the  smoke  lifted  we  gave  a  resounding  cheer,  for  their 
lines  had  been  broken  and  they  were  giving  ground.  I 
believed  then  for  an  instant  that  we  would  beat  them 
off,  but  I  saw  in  the  next  instant  that  it  was  impossible 
in  the  face  of  such  numbers. 

They  reformed  their  lines  and  pressed  on  again  in 
an  overwhelming  mass,  and  those  of  us  who  had  rifles 
began  a  fire  in  their  faces  which  broke  holes  in  their 
front  ranks  but  could  not  stop  their  onward  march.  The 
cannon  were  reloaded,  and  again  our  ears  trembled  with 
the  concussion  of  the  guns  as  they  were  fired  all  to- 


THE  BLADEXSBURG  RACES.  251 

gether.  Back  went  the  British  a  second  time,  leaving 
their  dead  and  wounded  in  our  front,  and  a  third  time 
they  came  to  the  charge  only  to  be  driven  back  as  before. 
The  odour  of  mingled  blood  and  dust  and  burnt  gunpow- 
der arose,  but,  carried  away  by  zeal  and  the  drunkenness 
of  momentary  success,  we  thought  little  of  it. 

After  the  third  repulse  they  hesitated,  then  sent  a 
formidable  column  up  a  ravine,  from  which  it  passed 
and  dividing  again  assailed  us  on  both  flanks  and  in  the 
rear,  while  the  great  force  in  front  of  us  made  its  fourth 
charge  at  our  faces.  We  were  enveloped  by  fire  and 
steel;  the  cannon  and  the  rifles  flashed  in  our  eyes,  the 
smoke  floated  over  us  so  thickly  that  at  times  it  hid  our 
comrades,  and  as  the  hostile  and  overwhelming  lines 
drew  more  tightly  around  us  I  had  a  curious  feeling  of 
strangulation,  as  if  it  were  my  throat  and  not  our  company 
that  was  compressed.  I  choked  with  the  dust  and  the 
smoke,  and  then  a  heavy  weight  was  hurled  against  me 
with  such  violence  that  at  first  thought  I  believed  my- 
self to  have  a  fatal  wound,  but  it  was  only  a  dead  man 
driven  upon  me  by  the  cannon  ball  that  had  killed  him. 
His  blood  was  over  me  and  mingled  with  my  own  sweat 
and  dust,  and  thus  we  fought,  while  the  hot  sun  poured 
burning  rays  straight  down  upon  our  heads,  and  the 
choking  clouds  of  dust  and  smoke  drove  in  our  faces. 

Let  me  say  again  that  our  sailors  and  marines  fought 
here  as  they  always  fought,  whether  on  land  or  sea,  with 
the  utmost  valour  and  tenacity.  Though  pressed  now  on 
every  side  by  overwhelming  numbers,  with  the  remainder 
of  our  army  out  of  sight  and  rushing,  wild  with  terror, 
into  Washington;  with  no  hope  of  success,  and  defeat  the 
only  thing  sure,  they  fought  on.  Such  is  the  result  of 
discipline  and  training  where  the  material  is  good. 

The  solid  ranks  of  the  enemy  pressed  more  closely 
upon  us,  the  dust  and  smoke  clouds  thickened.  Suddenly 
our  commander  went  down,  badly  wounded.  Some  of 
those  in  our  front  ranks,  crushed  by  the  mere  weight  of 


252  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

numbers,  yielded,  and  it  was  plain  to  all  that  in  a  minute 
or  two  more  our  little  band  would  be  broken  and  shat- 
tered. 

"  Come!  "  shouted  Cyrus  Pendleton  to  me.  "  When 
it's  useless  to  fight  any  longer,  Philip,  it's  time  to  save 
yourself! " 

It  was  the  cautious  old  Indian  fighter,  the  best  of  all 
fighters,  the  man  who  never  sacrificed  anything  to  false 
gallantry  or  bravado,  who  spoke,  and  seeing  the  truth  of 
his  words  I  dashed  with  him  and  Bidwell,  who  appeared 
just  then  at  our  side,  at  a  thin  point  of  the  British  line. 
A  grenadier,  bayonet  presented,  barred  our  way.  I 
smashed  at  his  head  with  a  clubbed  rifle,  and  I  felt  but 
did  not  see  the  blow,  for  I  turned  my  head  away.  The  fur 
trader  fired  a  pistol  at  another,  and  then,  leaping  over 
their  bodies,  we  dashed  through  the  line  down  the  hill 
and  out  into  the  plain  beyond.  A  bullet  or  two  whizzed 
by  us,  but  in  the  wild  turmoil  of  flame  and  dust  and  smoke 
and  trampling  regiments  and  shouting  men  we  were  not 
noticed  more,  and,  short  of  breath,  we  passed  off  the 
field  in  the  track  of  the  fleeing  army. 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  we  are  running  away,"  said 
Cyrus  Pendleton  grimly. 

"  It  looks  like  it." 

Ahead  of  us  were  other  fleeing  forms,  and  the  plain 
was  spotted  with  discarded  rifles.  I  was  oppressed  by  an- 
ger, shame,  and  grief,  and  as  the  fury  of  the  battle  died 
my  muscles  relaxed  and  I  felt  as  if  I  could  drop  through 
weariness,  but  my  will  bore  me  on.  Now  that  my  back 
and  not  my  face  was  turned  to  the  enemy,  a  breath  of 
that  panic  that  had  swept  away  regiments  touched  me. 
I  was  sure  that  they  were  firing  at  me  from  behind,  and 
I  felt  a  fierce  desire  to  rush  forward  at  the  utmost  speed 
and  take  myself  out  of  range.  My  heels  were  becoming 
master,  and  I  made  an  involuntary  movement  to  throw 
away  my  rifle  to  lighten  myself  and  quicken  my  flight. 
But  I  had  enough  pride  and  will  to  rule  my  heels  and  to 


THE  BLADENSBURG  RACES.  253 

crush  down  the  sense  of  fear  which  overmasters  when  it 
is  permitted  to  go  far.  I  restrained  my  pace  to  an  orj 
dered  flight,  and  kept  my  weapons  for  future  use. 

But  the  anger  and  the  shame  remained.  We  were 
now  in  the  trail  of  the  dust  cloud  that  the  fugitives  had 
kicked  up,  and  we  choked  and  sputtered  and  our  weari- 
ness grew.  The  sun  blazed  through  the  dust,  and  we 
seemed  to  be  the  chosen  focus  of  his  rays.  I  looked  at 
Cyrus  Pendleton  and  Bidwell.  Their  tongues  were  hang- 
ing out  and  their  faces  were  masked  in  dirt  that  was  wet 
and  sticky  with  sweat.  Overhead  the  sun  grinned  at  us 
and  poured  his  hottest  beams  upon  our  heads.  Behind  us 
the  uproar  of  the  battle  quickly  sank  to  nothing,  and  we 
knew  that  the  sailors  left  alive  had  surrendered  to  over- 
powering force.  The  cannon  and  the  rifles  echoed  for  a 
few  moments,  and  the  hum  of  many  voices,  the  shuffling 
of  feet,  the  confused  clamour  of  an  army,  arose  in  its 
place,  and  then,  too,  died  away  as  we  raced  on  toward 
Washington. 

"Friends,"  said  Bidwell  suddenly,  "you  must  stop! " 

"  Stop! "  I  said  in  surprise.  "  Not  now!  it's  too 
early! " 

"  Only  a  minute  or  two! " 

"What  for?" 

"  To  see  me  die." 

We  stopped  abruptly,  appalled  at  his  words,  the  sud- 
denness of  them,  the  calmness  with  which  they  were 
spoken,  but  we  saw  at  the  first  glance  that  they  were 
true.  Death  was  already  upon  him  or  he  would  not 
have  spoken  in  such  a  strange  fashion,  and  I  noticed 
now  a  deep  red  blur  upon  his  coat,  where  the  bullet  re- 
ceived in  the  whirlwind  of  the  battle,  and  perhaps  un- 
noticed at  the  time,  had  passed.  I  was  smitten  with  a 
sudden  great  remorse,  because  I  had  sneered  at  him  and 
despised  him,  and  yet  when  the  hour  came  he  had  proved 
himself  of  the  finest  and  truest  steel,  and  in  so  doing  had 
lost  his  life. 


254:  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

I  seized  him  in  my  arms,  for  he  was  ahout  to  fall, 
and  bore  him  to  the  roadside,  intending  to  put  him  down 
there  on  the  grass.  But  I  saw  farther  away  a  dense 
clump  of  trees,  and  with  an  eye  to  the  pursuing  British 
army  I  hastened  to  them,  carrying  the  dying  man  and 
followed  by  Cyrus  Pendleton,  aghast  at  the  fate  of  Bid- 
well,  to  whom  he  was  really  attached,  and  the  collapse 
of  his  sanguine  schemes  of  grandeur.  I  hastened  into 
the  clump  of  trees  and  put  Bidwell  down  upon  the 
grass. 

"  Thank  you,  Phil,"  he  said,  with  his  dying  breath. 
"I  tried  to  make  a  good  soldier.  I  gave  the  best  that 
was  in  me." 

He  spoke  true  words,  for  he  had  given  his  life.  He 
tried  to  reach  out  his  hand  and  I  took  it,  but  as  I  took 
it  he  died,  and  I  have  never  been  ashamed  of  the  tear 
that  fell  then  from  my  eyes.  Mr.  Pendleton  seemed 
stupefied,  as  if  his  world  were  coming  to  an  end,  but  I 
roused  him  and  told  him  that  we  must  dispose  of  Bid- 
well's  body  before  we  could  continue  our  flight  to  Wash- 
ington. We  could  hear  the  distant  cries  and  tramplings 
and  the  scattering  shots  of  the  pursuing  army,  but  we 
knew  the  way  across  the  fields  and  through  the  woods, 
and  I  had  no  fear.  A  little  farther  back  we  found  a 
cabin  inhabited  by  negroes  who  were  frightened  to  the 
verge  of  death  and  ready  to  acknowledge  the  first  man 
who  came  as  their  sovereign  lord  and  master.  They 
screamed  with  fear  at  the  sight  of  the  dead  body,  but 
two  ten-dollar  gold  pieces  persuaded  them  to  take  it,  a 
trust  which  they  kept  faithfully,  and  the  mortal  remains 
of  poor  Bidwell  were  buried  afterward  according  to  the 
rites  of  the  Church  into  which  he  had  been  born. 

Leaving  the  body  there,  we  continued  our  flight,  op- 
pressed by  grief,  shame,  and  anxiety.  No  man  could 
tell  what  would  happen  to  Washington.  The  victors  be- 
hind were  those  veterans  of  whom  the  Duke  of  Wel- 
lington, their  own  commander,  wrote  to  the  British  min- 


THE  BLADENSBURG  RACES.  255 

istry:  "  It  is  impossible  to  describe  to  you  the  irregular- 
ities and  outrages  committed  by  the  troops/'  The  men 
who  were  with  Wellington  were  the  men  who  were  now 
at  Washington. 

My  first  thought  was  of  Marian,  and  her  father  told 
me  he  would  go  to  her  at  once  in  Georgetown.  Even  as 
he  told  me  we  parted,  he  to  go  as  he  had  said  he  would 
and  take  her  to  safety,  and  I  to  go  to  Washington, 
where  I  thought  it  my  duty  to  be,  for  even  yet  I  hoped 
that  the  army  might  rally  and  make  some  sort  of  a 
stand. 

I  was  sore  of  muscle,  wearied  by  the  battle  and  the 
flight,  the  heat  and  the  dust,  but  I  passed  on  at  steady 
speed,  and,  entering  Washington,  saw  for  the  first  and 
last  time  a  city  in  despair,  its  people  fleeing  before  a 
ruthless  conqueror,  a  sight  which  our  country  luckily 
has  beheld  neither  before  nor  since.  My  head  swam  at 
the  confusion  and  the  terror  which  surged  around  me. 
There  was  not  the  slightest  hope  of  reforming  an  army; 
no  army  was  there,  but  the  air  was  filled  with  the 
screaming  of  children,  the  crying  of  women,  the  shout- 
ing and  cursing  of  men,  while  the  clouds  of  dust  kicked 
up  from  the  earth  half  veiled  houses  and  human  beings, 
and  the  hot  glare  of  the  sun  beat  down  on  everything. 
A  wounded  soldier,  a  clerk  in  the  Treasury  Department 
whom  I  had  known,  sat  on  the  steps  of  a  house  tying  up 
his  wound  with  a  handkerchief. 

"  Over  the  bridge  to  Virginia,  Ten  Broeck! "  he 
shouted  to  me. 

He  must  have  recognised  me  by  my  size,  for  my  face 
was  encased  in  dried  mud  and  blood  as  in  a  mask.  I 
shook  my  head,  and  he  said  nothing  more,  but  took  his 
own  advice  and  fled  toward  the  bridge,  which  was 
crowded  with  a  flying  procession  in  wagons,  on  horse- 
back, and  among  them  many  of  the  great  officials  of  our 
nation.  The  President  and  his  wife  had  crossed  the 
river  in  a  boat  already,  Mrs.  Madison  lingering  to  the 


256  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

last  to  save  the  famous  portrait  of  Washington  in  the 
White  House. 

The  wreck  swept  on,  leaving  full  evidence  of  its  pas- 
sage. In  the  streets  lay  abandoned  guns,  pieces  of  fur- 
niture, and  broken  mirrors,  and  the  stray  breezes  caught 
up  documents  which,  for  all  I  knew,  may  have  come 
from  the  Capitol  itself.  Over  the  bridge  thundered  the 
crowd,  the  tail  of  it  a  huddle  of  frightened  negroes,  who, 
after  the  custom  of  their  race,  wept  at  the  top  of  their 
voices. 

I  saw  a  group  of  twenty  or  twenty-five  men  in  uni- 
form; soldiers  they  were  not,  for  when  I  asked  them  to 
stay  and  help  in  a  defence  they  hooted  at  me  and  fol- 
lowed at  a  swift  pace  in  the  wake  of  the  fleeing  crowd. 
Dusk  was  coming  on;  in  the  east  the  twilight  was  ap- 
pearing. The  beat  of  flying  feet  had  sunk  from  thunder 
into  a  distant  rumble.  Those  who  remained  had  locked 
themselves  in  their  houses,  doors  and  windows  barred, 
and  the  fallen  city  was  about  to  behold  a  night  of  defeat. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

A  NIGHT   OF   DEFEAT. 

As  the  darkness  came  out  of  the  east  and  the 
silence  of  desolation  spread  over  the  doomed  city  I  felt 
that  it  was  time  for  me  to  go.  The  last  straggler  was  dis- 
appearing, a  wagon  loaded  with  household  goods  had  just 
lumbered  past  me  and  gone  out  of  sight  around  a  corner; 
the  night  was  settling  down,  thick  and  close,  after  a  hot, 
burning  day.  There  was  nothing  that  one  could  do  in 
Washington,  and  my  sole  idea  then  was  to  go  to  George- 
town and  help  in  the  escape  and  protection  of  Marian.  I 
stood  in  Pennsylvania  Avenue,  where  I  had  made  my 
last  effort  to  rally  some  uniformed  fugitives.  Near  me 
loomed  the  Capitol,  its  white  walls  shining  through  the 
advancing  dusk.  I  turned  to  go,  and  heard  a  rattle  and 
a  shout  and  the  tread  of  many  feet.  Before  me  blazed 
the  red  coats  of  an  English  regiment,  advancing  up  the 
avenue,  in  but  half  order,  their  general,  Ross,  and  the 
admiral,  Cockburn,  who  commanded  the  blockading  fleet, 
at  their  head.  Theirs  was  not  the  precise,  steady  walk  of 
the  drill  ground,  of  troops  under  strict  discipline,  but  they 
came  on  in  irregular  lines,  shouting  and  firing  stray  shots 
at  the  silent  and  unoffending  walls  of  houses.  I  saw  at 
once  that  these  men,  wild  and  drunk  with  triumph,  were 
in  truth  the  men  of  whom  Wellington  wrote,  and  less  kin 
to  the  Puritans  of  Cromwell  than  ever.  I  was  about  to 
turn  again  for  retreat  another  way,  when  my  eye  was 
caught  by  the  figure  of  an  officer  riding  just  behind  the 
British  general — a  tall  man,  straight-shouldered,  and 

257 


258  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

riding  stiffly.  It  was  my  kinsman,  Major  Northcote,  in 
a  brilliant  uniform,  all  his  seeming  indifference  gone,  his 
face  red  with  the  flush  of  victory  and  gratified  malice, 
as  on  this,  the  most  triumphant  day  of  his  life,  he  rode 
toward  the  Capitol  of  the  country  which  had  injured 
him  and  which,  I  knew  now,  he  hated  with  as  much  vin- 
dictive passion  as  the  human  breast  is  capable  of  holding. 
He  fascinated  me  for  the  moment  as  Turnus  in  the 
^Eneid  or  the  Devil  in  Paradise  Lost  fascinates  the  reader. 
The  light  of  the  setting  sun,  reddest  as  it  goes,  blazed 
upon  his  face,  and  brought  forth  like  Greek  chiselling 
every  strong  and  sharpened  feature — the  massive  head, 
the  projecting  chin,  the  tight-shut  lips,  the  high  cheek 
bones,  the  seamed  forehead,  the  thick  gray  hair  above, 
the  whole  handsome  as  ever,  but  now  harsh  and  repellent. 
It  was  only  for  the  moment  that  I  looked,  and  then 
I  turned  again  to  flee  down  a  side  street.  Some  of  the 
soldiers  saw  me  and  shouted  to  their  comrades  to  shoot, 
setting  the  example  by  firing  point-blank  at  my  vanishing 
form,  and  the  others  followed  quickly  with  a  volley.  But 
the  twilight  had  come  and  the  soldiers  were  unsteady.  I 
heard  their  bullets  whistling  around  me,  but  none  touched 
me,  and  I  told  Philip  Ten  Broeck  that  it  was  time  to  show 
himself  a  man  of  speed  and  sure  foot,  and  so  telling  I 
took  his  advice  and  darted  into  the  side  street.  It  was  well 
for  me  that  I  looked  before  me,  for  my  eyes  were  saluted 
again  by  a  line  of  red  uniforms,  and  down  the  side  street 
at  a  trot  came  a  company  of  British  grenadiers,  shouting 
like  their  comrades  in  the  avenue  and  firing  at  the  houses, 
changing  their  aim  when  I  came  and  sending  their  bullets 
at  me.  This  way  was  closed,  and  I  ran  back  into  the 
avenue,  to  find,  the  main  body  of  the  troops  still  nearer. 
Obeying  instinct,  I  ran  straight  ahead  at  a  great  pace 
and  directly  toward  the  Capitol.  I  would  have  tried  an- 
other side  street,  but  I  feared  that  I  would  dash  into  a 
British  company,  for  they  seemed  to  be  approaching  from 
almost  every  direction,  and  I  ran  on  toward  the  great 


A  NIGHT  OF  DEFEAT.  259 

building,  which  rose  white  and  massive  in  the  misty  twi- 
light. More  muskets  were  discharged  at  me,  and  the 
troops  shouted  in  delight  like  hunters  at  a  fox  chase,  but 
I  had  little  fear  of  their  bullets,  which  struck  bushes  and 
houses,  but  n.ever  my  body. 

I  dashed  around  a  little  patch  of  shrubbery,  took  a 
few  leaps,  and  was  then  at  the  Capitol.  I  believed  that 
the  troops  had  lost  sight  of  me,  and  I  would  hide  in  the 
building  until  the  darkest  part  of  the  night  came,  when  I 
would  escape  to  the  country.  I  listened  for  a  moment 
behind  one  of  the  pillars,  and  then  entered  the  Capitol. 
Books  and  parchments  were  scattered  upon  the  floors, 
but  around  me  was  utter  silence,  and  the  darkness  of 
night  had  gathered  already  in  the  lone  rooms  and  halls. 
On  a  table  in  one  of  the  rooms  a  candle  burned  dimly. 
How  it  came  to  be  lighted  I  know  not,  but  it  sputtered 
there  and  threw  its  flickering  flame  on  the  marble  walls 
like  one  of  the  torches  that  some  religions  burn  at  the 
feet  of  the  dead. 

When  I  stepped  heavily  upon  a  stone  floor  the  great 
building  rumbled  as  the  echo  fled  through  hall  and 
corridor,  and  the  succeeding  silence  and  desolation  op- 
pressed me.  I  went  into  the  Senate  chamber,  where  I 
had  listened  to  the  eloquence  of  Mr.  Clay  urging  on  the 
war,  and  walked  down  between  the  rows  of  deserted 
desks,  some  with  rolls  of  papers  lying  upon  them,  and 
faced  the  Vice-President's  chair,  sitting  there  an  em- 
blem of  emptiness  and  abandonment.  It  was  now  more 
than  twilight  in  the  silent  chamber,  for  within  those 
walls  the  darkness  had  come,  and  it  was  only  my  ac- 
customed eyes  that  enabled  me  to  see;  even  then  the 
walls  and  chairs  and  desks  became  shadowy,  while  the 
feeble  rays  of  light  that  filtered  through  the  windows 
made  a  pallid  and  ghostly  hue  where  they  fell.  It  was  to 
me  a  dim  chamber  of  the  dead,  and  my  brain  was  ex- 
cited with  the  wild  battle  and  flight  of  the  day,  the  heat 
and  dust,  the  shame  and  disgrace  of  the  rout,  and  my 


260  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

presence  alone  there  in  that  darkening  room,  from 
which  the  rightful  occupants  had  fled.  My  heart  was 
filled  with  varying  emotions,  shame,  anger,  excitement; 
my  feet  became  light  as  air,  and  my  brain  swelled  with 
strange  ideas.  I  walked  down  the  aisle  and  up  to  the 
Vice-President's  chair,  in  which  I  took  my  seat  and  faced 
the  empty  chairs  of  the  senators. 

It  was  a  fine  chair,  a  big  chair,  but  I  filled  it,  for  I 
say  again  that  my  brain  swelled  with  the  excitement  and 
battle  of  the  day  and  held  strange  ideas.  I  looked  down 
at  the  rows  of  silent  desks  and  empty  chairs,  formless 
in  the  dark,  and  facing  me  like  phantoms,  and  I  trem- 
bled with  indignation  at  those  who  had  occupied  them 
and  had  fled.  I  threw  up  my  hand,  and  it  struck  a  gavel 
on  a  little  marble-topped  table  by  my  side.  The  Vice- 
President's  gavel!  He,  too,  was  gone.  Then  I  would 
wield  it  for  him! 

I  rapped  once,  twice,  thrice,  on  the  marble  table  for 
order.  The  resonant  stone  gave  back  the  sound,  and  the 
dim  chamber  echoed  with  it.  The  rows  of  desks,  look- 
ing more  than  ever  in  the  thickening  dusk  like  phan- 
toms of  men,  faced  me,  ordered  and  silent. 

I  rose  to  my  feet,  the  gavel  still  in  my  hand. 

"  Senators,  pillars  of  your  country,"  I  said,  speaking 
clearly  and  distinctly,  "  for  years  we  were  threatened  with 
war,  and  we  had  no  recourse  but  war.  Then  you  brought 
us  war.  Is  it  not  so?  " 

No  answer;  no  dissent. 

"  Then  you  brought  us  war,  I  say,  and  you  did  right; 
and,  still  holding  the  blessings  of  peace  in  view,  you  made 
no  preparations  for  it.  You  gave  us  war,  but  you  de- 
nied us  an  army  or  arms.  Is  it  not  true?  " 

No  answer. 

"Does  the  senator  from  Massachusetts  deny  it?  He 
does  not?  Does  the  senator  from  South  Carolina  deny 
it?  Does  the  senator  from  New  York  deny  it?  They 
do  not.  Then,  be  it  resolved  that  we  are  sluggards  and 


A  NIGHT  OF  DEFEAT.  261 

blockheads  and  unfit  for  our  posts.  Does  any  one  op- 
pose the  resolution?  " 

No  answer. 

"  Unanimously  adopted.  Let  it  he  entered  upon  the 
record,  Mr.  Clerk,  that  the  nohle  senators,  by  unanimous 
resolution,  have  decided  that  they  are  sluggards  and 
blockheads  and  unfit  for  their  posts.  Moreover,  gentle- 
men of  the  Senate,  when  the  enemy  appeared  at  your 
gates  you  organized  no  resistance,  but  fled  in  haste  and 
disgrace  from  your  capital,  leaving  it  to  its  fate.  There- 
fore, be  it  resolved,  gentlemen  of  the  Senate,  that  we  are 
cowards,  one  and  all,  rank,  scurvy  cowards.  Does  any 
one  oppose  the  resolution?" 

No  answer. 

"  Unanimously  adopted.  Enter  it  upon  the  record, 
Mr.  Clerk,  that  the  senators,  by  unanimous  resolution, 
have  decided  that  they  are  cowards." 

"  Present  arms!     Take  aim!  " 

The  command,  loud  and  sharp,  came  through  the 
windows  and  recalled  me  to  what  was  passing  out- 
side. I  sprang  from  the  chair  and  running  to  the  win- 
dow looked  out,  but  I  took  only  one  brief  look.  The 
British  companies  were  drawn  up,  muskets  presented 
and  aimed  at  the  windows  of  the  Capitol.  Between  their 
lines  I  could  see  Major  Northcote  on  his  horse,  his  face 
still  flushed  with  all  the  joy  of  insolent  triumph,  and  I 
knew  that  he  more  than  any  other  had  helped  to  guide 
and  lead  them  there.  He  had  used  his  time  in  Washington 
well  for  him — too  well  for  us. 

"  Fire! " 

Three  hundred  muskets  were  discharged  at  once,  and 
the  bullets  smashed  into  the  windows  of  the  Capitol. 
The  glass  over  my  head  was  shattered  into  a  thousand 
pieces,  and  poured  down  a  rain  of  bits  and  splinters  upon 
me.  The  bullets  whistled  through  the  air  and  pattered 
upon  the  opposite  walls.  I  remained  crouched  where  I 
was  under  the  window,  for  I  expected  a  second  volley, 


262  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

and  it  came  quickly.  They  were  so  close  that  the  flame 
from  the  muskets  seemed  to  flash  in  at  the  windows; 
the  glass  left  by  the  first  discharge  rattled  upon  the  floor, 
the  smoke  puffed  in,  and  the  whole  building  resounded 
and  echoed  with  the  volleys.  The  second  discharge  was 
succeeded  by  a  stream  of  scattering  shots,  and  then  I 
heard  them  shouting  and  cursing  at  the  doors  and  pour- 
ing into  the  building. 

I  had  rushed  into  the  Capitol  through  instinct,  think- 
ing that  I  might  find  a  safe  hiding  place  for  a  while  in 
its  deserted  halls.  In  the  fierce  wars  of  the  French 
Eevolution  and  those  that  came  after,  nearly  every  capi- 
tal city  of  Europe  had  been  taken,  and  always  they  had 
been  spared.  The  armies  of  the  French  republic  and 
the  Napoleonic  empire  had  entered  capital  after  capital 
on  the  continent  of  Europe,  and  they  had  harmed  none; 
if  Moscow  was  burned  it  was  not  Napoleon's  soldiers, 
but  its  own  inhabitants,  who  burned  it.  The  English 
and  the  Cossacks  had  been  in  Paris,  and  they  had  left 
Paris  as  it  was;  but  when  the  English,  from  whom  we 
are  descended,  entered  our  new  little  capital  of  Washing- 
ton, just  rising  from  bush  and  marsh,  they  raged  with 
the  mad  lust  that  savages  have  for  destruction. 

As  I  sprang  into  one  of  the  halls  I  saw  the  soldiers 
rushing  into  the  building,  some  with  lighted  torches  in 
their  hands  and  others  firing  their  muskets  at  the  ceiling, 
the  walls,  chandeliers — anything  that  was  large  enough 
to  be  a  target.  All  were  wild  with  that  insane  fury 
which  in  Malay  countries  they  call  running  amuck.  All 
were  yelling  and  cursing,  and  the  building  resounded 
with  the  din  and  confusion.  Outside,  their  admiral, 
Cockburn,  galloped  up  and  down  on  a  white  mare,  fol- 
lowed by  her  foal,  a  ferocious  and  ludicrous  figure,  bel- 
lowing to  his  men,  egging  them  on,  cursing  the  building 
and  the  nation  that  had  built  it.  Truly  the  better  Eng- 
land was  dead,  that  night! 

I  ran  down  a  hall  and  toward  one  of  the  back  win- 


A  NIGHT  OP  DEFEAT.  263 

dows,  hoping  to  escape  through  it,  but  some  soldiers 
there  blocked  my  way.  The  whole  building  swarmed 
with  them — they  were  everywhere,  shouting  and  fir- 
ing pistols  and  muskets  and  setting  torches  to  wooden 
furniture  or  whatever  else  inflammable  they  could  find. 
Twice  I  saw  Major  Northcote,  torch  aloft,  and  shout- 
ing to  the  men  to  spare  nothing.  His  seemed  to  be 
the  most  ruthless  hand  in  all  that  ruthless  band.  Some 
of  the  halls  and  rooms  were  as  light  as  day,  for  in  places 
the  interior  of  the  building  was  already  in  a  bright 
blaze;  in  others,  which  the  flames  had  not  yet  reached, 
it  was  still  dark.  Columns  of  smoke  poured  down  the 
halls,  and  the  crackling  of  burning  material  mingled 
with  the  shouts  and  oaths  of  the  troops.  In  the  half 
light  and  the  savage  orgie  no  one  noticed  me,  though 
more  than  once  I  brushed  against  the  soldiers  as  I 
sought  some  way  of  escape.  All  seemed  to  be  closed  to 
me;  the  British  were  everywhere  in  the  building,  and 
outside  they  surrounded  it.  In  the  dusk  of  the  dim 
halls,  with  the  men  thinking  of  nothing  but  to  destroy 
the  senseless  wood  and  stone,  I  could  escape  notice,  but 
outside,  where  so  many  torches  flared  and  officers  and 
soldiers  looked  on,  they  would  be  sure  to  mark  me  the 
moment  I  appeared.  I  felt  for  the  first  time  a  fear  for 
my  life,  but  I  did  not  think  of  surrender,  and  had  I 
thought  of  it,  the  idea  would  have  been  dismissed  the 
next  moment,  since  I  could  expect  no  quarter  from 
these  men. 

The  flames  were  roaring  now  and  licked  out  at  the  win- 
dows, showers  of  sparks  formed  a  luminous  core  for  the 
columns  of  smoke  which  poured  down  the  halls,  and  the 
snapping  and  popping  were  like  the  incessant  crackling 
of  pistol  shots.  The  soldiers,  their  work  well  done,  were 
rushing  from  the  building,  and  I  fled  alone  into  a  small 
room,  where  I  paused  like  a  wild  beast  chased  from  his 
lair  by  fire.  I  stood  there  by  a  window,  half  strangled 
by  the  smoke  and  scorched  by  the  flying  sparks.  Behind 


264:  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

me  the  flames  roared,  and  across  at  the  other  wing  they 
shot  far  up  above  the  roof,  casting  a  wide  circuit  of  light 
around  the  burning  building.  I  saw  Major  Northcote 
rush  out,  mount  his  horse,  and  ride  up  by  the  side  of 
General  Ross  and  Admiral  Cockburn.  The  three  sat  to- 
gether for  a  few  moments,  on  their  horses,  looking  at  the 
flaming  Capitol,  then  they  gave  commands  to  the  sol- 
diers, who  turned  about  and  marched  down  the  avenue 
toward  the  White  House. 

I  stood  there  yet  a  little  longer  watching  them  as 
they  marched,  until  the  crash  of  falling  woodwork  behind 
me  said  that  it  was  time  to  go;  then,  letting  myself  down 
from  the  window,  I  dropped  lightly  to  the  earth  outside. 
I  shrank  for  a  little  against  the  wall  of  the  building  that 
I  might  be  protected  by  its  shadow,  for  there  were  still 
straggling  soldiers  about,  drunk  with  success  and  more 
real  liquor,  firing  their  muskets  and  ready  for  murder. 

A  light  wind  was  fanning  the  fire,  which  was  in- 
creasing fast,  and  the  walls  grew  hot.  Cinders  and 
half-burned  pieces  of  wood  were  falling  about  me,  and 
smoked  or  burned  in  the  grass  where  they  fell.  I  made 
a  dash  and  crossed  the  circle  of  light  unnoticed.  Then, 
skulking  in  the  darkness  behind  the  houses  and  patches 
of  bushes,  I  followed  the  general  direction  in  which  Ross 
and  Cockburn  had  gone,  turning  occasionally  to  look 
back  at  the  Capitol,  now  a  mass  of  fire,  yet  with  the 
white  of  the  marble  still  gleaming  here  and  there  through 
the  sheets  of  flame.  All  about  it  the  earth  was  lighted 
up,  but  beyond  lay  the  encircling  rim  of  darkness,  and 
above  it  the  clouds  of  smoke  mingled  with  other  clouds 
which  were  drifting  across  the  sky  and  formed  a  sombre 
canopy. 

The  English  were  hastening  toward  the  President's 
house,  and  in  a  few  minutes  I  saw  columns  of  flame 
shooting  up  from  its  roof  and  bursting  from  the  windows, 
while  soldiers  carrying  loot  from  the  rooms  rushed 
about  showing  their  spoil.  Then  the  torch  was  set  to 


A  NIGHT  OF  DEFEAT.  265 

the  Treasury,  and  at  the  same  time  the  flames  shot  up 
from  the  navy  yard,  where  the  buildings  and  the  in- 
complete ship  on  the  dock  were  burning.  All  the 
time  the  shouting  and  cursing  and  indiscriminate  firing 
went  on.  The  soldiers  shot  at  any  one  they  met  not 
wearing  their  uniform,  and  I  saw  a  man  named  Lewis 
murdered  in  the  street  because  he  rebuked  them  for 
savagery.  Higher  and  higher  rose  the  flames  from  the 
doomed  buildings,  and  drunken  soldiers  danced  by  their 
light,  while  others  broke  down  the  doors  of  houses  and 
ransacked  them  for  plunder. 

I  saw  that  my  curiosity,  the  strange  fascination  that 
this  wild  scene,  smacking  of  the  bloody  deeds  of  antiquity, 
had  for  me,  had  led  me  again  into  danger.  I  had  ap- 
proached too  near  the  avenue,  and  hearing  soldiers  shout- 
ing in  the  cross  streets  behind  me,  I  pushed  open  the 
door  of  a  little  negro  cabin  that  stood  on  Pennsylvania 
Avenue  and  entered.  I  had  now  all  my  wits  about  me  and 
knew  what  I  was  doing.  There  was  no  sign  of  life  in 
the  place,  and  it  was  too  humble  and  mean  for  any  one  to 
search  there  for  plunder.  In  one  corner  was  a  ladder 
leading  to  a  little  loft,  the  eaves  of  which  sloped  almost 
to  the  ceiling  of  the  first  floor.  But  I  went  lightly  up 
the  ladder,  which  I  pulled  into  the  loft  after  me,  and 
then  I  squeezed  myself  down  between  the  floor  and  the 
sloping  roof,  where  I  could  look  out  through  a  little  foot- 
square  window,  without  any  glass  in  it,  and  see  what 


The  night  was  far  advanced,  and  yet  the  soldiers  still 
rioted,  their  commanders  apparently  making  no  effort  to 
restore  order,  but  seeking  rather  to  increase  the  wildness 
and  savagery  of  the  orgie.  What  an  opportunity  it 
would  have  been  for  a  little  army  of  our  regular  troops, 
which  fought  so  bravely  on  other  fields!  All  the  British 
forces  would  have  been  routed  in  half  an  hour.  But  the 
thought  brought  only  bitterness  and  shame,  for  that  little 
army  of  regular  troops  was  not  there. 
18 


266  A  HERALD  OF  THE   WEST. 

The  flames  from  the  burning  buildings  still  lighted 
up  Washington,  and  had  it  been  a  solidly  built  city,  in- 
stead of  a  scattered  village  with  a  few  detached  and 
splendid  structures,  the  whole  of  it  would  have  been  on 
fire  before  this.  But  even  as  it  was  the  flames  were  in- 
creasing, and  the  clouds  of  smoke  widened  and  darkened. 
There  were  other  clouds,  too,  piling  up  in  the  sky,  and 
a  west  wind  was  moaning.  The  cinders  and  ashes  driven 
by  the  gusts  were  falling  everywhere,  and  a  fine  gray  dust 
sifted  in  at  my  little  window  and  lodged  upon  my  face. 

Despite  the  gigantic  bonfires  of  the  burning  buildings 
the  night  began  to  grow  darker,  the  moan  of  the  wind 
grew  to  a  shriek,  in  the  far  southwest  the  clouds  were 
piling  up  higher  and  higher — big,  black,  and  threaten- 
ing. The  figures  of  the  rioting  soldiers  grew  shadowy, 
mere  black  lines  against  the  fiery  background. 

My  brain  still  throbbed  with  excitement,  and  my 
hands  felt  hot  to  the  touch  of  each  other,  but  I  had  no 
thought  of  rest.  I  could  not  have  slept  if  I  had  tried, 
and  I  lay  there  with  my  face  in  the  hole  in  the  wall 
which  served  as  a  window  and  watched,  as  the  sack  of 
the  city  went  on. 

The  advancing  clouds  dimmed  the  light  of  the  fires, 
the  shots  became  few,  then  ceased,  the  figures  of  the 
soldiers,  save  in  the  brightest  light,  melted  from  black 
lines  into  nothing,  but  the  clouds  of  ashes  grew  thicker. 
The  shouting  died,  and  after  it  came  a  stillness  broken 
only  by  the  sweep  of  the  flames  and  the  rush  of  the  wind. 
I  looked  up  at  the  sky;  not  a  star,  not  a  strip  of  moon- 
light was  there;  the  heavy  gray  clouds  of  smoke  had 
gathered  against  the  darker  background  of  other  clouds, 
and  through  both  shone  a  red  gleam  from  the  fires  below. 
The  air  was  dense  and  heavy,  and  its  closeness,  the  red- 
black  of  the  sky,  the  feeling  left  by  the  wild  scenes  of 
the  night,  seemed  to  portend  a  convulsion  of  Nature — an 
earthquake,  perhaps.  My  own  senses  were  oppressed. 
Brain  and  heart  felt  as  if  they  were  clogged  up. 


A  NIGHT  OF  DEFEAT.  267 

The  wind  was  whistling  and  shrieking  around  the 
little  cabin.  The  air  grew  purer  under  its  breath,  and 
the  flames  of  the  burning  city  bent  far  over  as  it  swept 
against  them.  In  the  southwest  the  clouds  were  of  a 
jetty  blackness,  but  suddenly  they  parted  before  a  flash 
of  lightning  which  cut  the  sky  like  a  sword  blade  from 
the  centre  of  the  heavens  to  the  earth. 

The  glare  of  the  lightning  upon  my  eyeballs  was  so 
strong  that  the  red  gleam  in  the  air  lingered  after  the 
flash  was  gone  and  the  clouds  had  closed  again  over  its 
track.  The  rumble  of  thunder  came  from  the  far  south- 
west, and  the  wind  shrieked  its  delight.  The  columns 
of  fire  bent  farther  over  before  its  rush,  and  it  seemed  to 
me  that  ribbons  of  flame  were  torn  off  to  float  a  little  in 
the  air  and  vanish.  Toward  the  burning  White  House 
a  few  distorted  figures  were  yet  visible  against  the  red 
background,  but  they,  too,  soon  fled  after  the  other  sol- 
diers who  were  seeking  shelter. 

The  thunder  began  to  rumble  again  and  did  not 
cease,  but  came  nearer;  the  unbroken  shriek  of  the  wind 
was  like  the  wailing  of  a  thousand  bagpipes,  and  drops  of 
cold  rain,  driven  like  pistol  balls,  struck  me  in  the  face. 
The  lightning  began  an  incessant  play  in  the  heavens, 
flashing  here  and  reappearing  there  with  such  rapidity 
and  intensity  that  my  eyes  ached,  though  I  did  not  cease  to 
look.  The  raindrops  thickened  into  a  shower  and  then  into 
a  steady  rush,  swept  on  by  the  wind.  The  thunder  now 
cracked  and  rolled  incessantly,  and  after  all  the  wild  events 
of  the  day  and  evening,  with  the  city  burning  around  me, 
I  was  beholding  at  midnight  of  a  hot  August  night  a 
fierce  storm  of  thunder  and  lightning,  Nature  seeming 
to  set  her  most  terrible  efforts  against  those  of  man.  The 
rain  poured  as  if  the  bottom  of  all  the  clouds  had  dropped 
out,  and  in  the  street  a  river  of  mud  and  water  was  run- 
ning. The  buildings  burned  bravely  on  for  a  while,  but 
the  flood  was  too  great  for  the  flames,  and  though  they 
fought  long,  they  began  to  smoulder  at  last  and  then 


268  A  HEEALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

went  out,  but  left  only  blackened  walls,  all  else  being 
consumed.  The  city  was  then  in  darkness,  save  for  the 
light  of  two  or  three  camp  fires  which  glimmered  through 
the  wet  and  blackness  of  the  storm,  and,  exhausted  with 
the  exertion  and  excitement  of  the  day  and  night,  though 
thinking  nothing  of  sleep,  I  slept. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE  KULEB  OF  A  NATION. 

I  WAS  awakened  the  next  morning  by  a  report  which 
set  every  timber  of  the  little  cabin  in  which  I  slept  to 
shaking,  and  caused  me  to  spring  up  with  such  sudden- 
ness that  I  struck  my  head  against  the  roof.  I  could 
not  imagine  its  cause,  nor  did  I  know  till  long  afterward 
that  it  was  an  explosion  of  some  powder  in  the  bottom 
of  a  well  at  the  arsenal,  into  which  a  British  soldier  had 
thrown  a  lighted  match,  thinking  it  was  full  of  water, 
thus  blowing  many  of  his  comrades  into  eternity  and 
frightening  the  rest  so  badly  that  they  fled. 

While  I  wondered,  I  rubbed  my  limbs,  which  were 
stiff  and  sore,  and  while  I  rubbed  I  longed  for  food  and 
water.  I  looked  out  again  from  my  little  window  and 
found  that  the  day  was  far  advanced.  The  air  was  clear 
and  warm,  the  sun  was  shining  brilliantly,  and  there 
before  me  lay  the  sacked  and  ruined  city,  wet  with  the 
rain  of  the  night  before,  the  bare  walls  of  the  public 
buildings  still  smoking. 

The  soldiers  were  appearing  in  the  streets  bearing 
plunder  and  torches,  and  the  work  of  destruction,  stopped 
once  by  the  night  and  the  rain,  was  begun  again.  While 
I  looked  the  ferocious  Admiral  Cockburn  galloped  by, 
still  on  his  white  mare  with  her  foal  trotting  behind  her. 
He  was  on  his  way  then  to  the  office  of  the  National  In- 
telligencer, a  newspaper  that  had  criticised  his  ravages 
in  the  Chesapeake  with  severity,  but  a  severity  fully  war- 
ranted by  the  facts.  There  he  raged  with  childish  eav- 

269 


270  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

agery,  standing  by  to  see  that  his  soldiers  destroyed  the 
presses  and  type,  according  to  his  direction,  and  insisting 
that  not  a  C  should  escape,  "  for  then  the  rascals  can 
not  any  longer  abuse  my  name."  After  that  he  mounted 
his  horse  again  and  galloped  back  through  the  streets, 
displaying  in  his  own  hands  to  his  admiring  officers  some 
articles  of  value  that  he  had  taken  from  the  President's 
house  the  night  before. 

Boss,  the  general,  was  raging  too,  for  a  hidden  sharp- 
shooter had  fired  at  him,  and,  missing  him,  had  killed  his 
horse.  He  escaped  death  there  to  find  it  soon  afterward  in 
the  bullet  of  another  sharpshooter  before  Baltimore. 

Thus,  with  the  commanders  and  soldiers  agreed,  they 
began,  and  the  torch  was  set  to  the  city  again.  The 
fires  blazed  up  anew,  and  I  thought  that  not  a  house 
would  be  left  in  Washington,  but  Nature  came  to  our 
rescue  a  second  time,  as  she  had  come  the  night  before. 
Surely  God  was  with  us!  As  the  fires  rose  the  skies 
darkened,  and  again  in  the  southwest  the  lightning 
blazed  and  the  thunder  rumbled.  I  had  ventured  down 
the  ladder  in  the  hope  of  finding  something  to  eat  in  the 
little  cabin,  and  was  lucky  enough  to  find  a  few  scraps 
in  a  cupboard,  which  I  was  devouring  with  the  teeth  of 
a  wolf  when  the  hurricane  burst  upon  the  city.  It  had 
been  a  thunderstorm  the  night  before;  it  was  a  wind- 
storm now,  and  each  was  accompanied  by  a  deluge  of 
rain.  The  air  turned  to  the  darkness  of  evening,  and 
moaned  only  as  it  moans  when  a  hurricane  comes. 

I  heard  a  smashing  and  tearing  noise  above  me,  and 
the  roof  of  the  cabin,  lifted  off  by  the  rush  of  the  wind, 
was  whirled  away.  I  was  afraid  that  the  whole  light 
structure  would  fall  about  my  ears,  and  I  ran  outside, 
where  pieces  of  timber  dashed  past  and  kept  me  dodging. 
Eoofs  were  torn  off,  flimsy  houses  were  tumbling  down, 
and  the  troops  again  were  seeking  shelter  wherever  they 
could  find  it.  With  the  dusk  of  twilight  prevailing  and  no 
soldiers  in  the  streets,  it  seemed  to  me  a  good  time  to 


THE  RULER  OF  A  NATION.  271 

take  the  chances  of  the  missiles  hurled  by  the  wind,  and 
escape. 

My  bones  ached  as  I  ran,  and  in  a  few  seconds  I  was 
drenched  with  the  rain,  but  I  kept  on  with  a  good  heart, 
and,  unchallenged  by  any  soldier,  passed  out  of  Washing- 
ton and  into  the  country.  I  entered  the  woods  first  and 
came  then  to  the  river,  of  which  I  drank  and  in  which 
I  bathed;  then  I  swam  across  it,  hoping  to  find  our 
people  somewhere  on  the  other  side.  It  was  still  raining, 
though  the  full  strength  of  the  hurricane  had  passed,  and 
the  warm  soil  steamed  with  the  great  amount  of  water 
that  had  fallen;  my  feet  sank  in  the  soft  earth,  and  I 
looked  around  with  a  certain  despair  at  the  lonely  and 
abandoned  country.  Cyrus  Pendleton  undoubtedly  had 
reached  Marian  in  Georgetown,  but  where  they  were  now 
was  more  than  I  could  guess,  and  finding  them  looked 
like  a  hopeless  task.  But  there  was  a  chance  that  I 
might  meet  some  straggler  who  would  give  me  news  of 
the  fugitive  Government,  and  cherishing  this  belief  I 
plodded  on,  for  it  was  likely  that  the  fur  trader  would 
follow  the  President. 

I  was  sure  of  only  one  thing,  and  that  was  the  rain; 
the  clouds  were  without  a  break,  and  the  rain  came  down 
in  steady  monotonous  sheets  that  gave  no  promise  of 
ceasing.  My  spirits  assumed  the  leaden  hue  of  the  sky, 
but  at  the  end  of  an  hour  I  hailed  with  the  delight  of  a 
shipwrecked  sailor  the  distant  sight  of  a  figure  in  the  uni- 
form of  an  American  marine.  The  man  seemed  to  be 
waiting  for  me,  and  I  was  sure  that  he  had  seen  me  before 
I  saw  him.  As  I  approached  I  recognised  him  as  the 
sailor  Patterson.  He  held  his  drawn  cutlass  in  his  hand, 
and  his  attitude  caused  me  to  look  more  closely  at  his 
face,  which  seemed  unnatural. 

"  It's  a  lucky  chance  that  you've  come,  Mr.  Ten 
Broeck,"  he  said.  "  I  want  you  to  be  my  second." 

"Your  second?" 

"  Yes,  I'm  going  to  fight  a  duel." 


272  A  HERALD  OP  THE  WEST. 

"  With  whom?  » 

"An  old  friend  of  mine;  he's  close  by,  though  he 
doesn't  know  I'm  here." 

It  was  a  flash  of  intuition  that  told  me  the  man  he 
meant,  and  from  that  moment  I  was  as  sure  of  his  iden- 
tity as  if  I  had  seen  him  myself. 

"  Some  British  parties  then  have  crossed  the  river?  " 
I  said. 

"  Yes,  several,  but  all  are  small,  as  they  are  merely 
scouting;  ours  is  not  fifty  yards  away,  and  there  are  only 
two  in  it." 

"  Lead  on  then,  and  I'll  follow." 

He  pushed  his  way  through  the  bushes,  which,  soaked 
with  rain,  made  no  noise  but  a  soft  rustling  as  we  passed, 
and  in  a  minute  or  two  we  came  upon  them. 

Allyn,  formerly  of  the  Guerriere,  was  standing  under 
the  thick  boughs  of  a  large  tree,  and  with  him  was  a 
British  grenadier.  I  suppose  they  had  become  separated 
from  a  larger  detachment  and  had  sought  temporary 
refuge  there  from  the  rain.  Their  hands  flew  to  their 
weapons  as  they  saw  us  approach,  but  I  had  covered 
them  with  my  pistol,  which  had  remained  dry  in  its 
holster,  and  they  desisted. 

"  You  don't  know  me,  Lieutenant  Allyn,"  said  Pat- 
terson. 

"  No,  I  do  not,"  said  Allyn. 

"  I  served  under  you  on  the  Guerriere,"  said  Patter- 
son, "  and  I  have  ample  cause  to  remember  it.  I  was 
about  to  kill  you  once,  to  stab  you  in  the  back,  but  Mr. 
Ten  Broeck  here  saved  your  life,  and  now  I'll  give  you 
a  fair  chance  for  it." 

I  think  he  had  not  recognised  me  before,  as  I  had 
been  walking  through  the  Virginia  mud,  and  I  was  cov- 
ered with  it.  Now  he  gave  a  slight  nod. 

The  sailor  told  him  to  draw  his  sword  and  fight,  and 
he  refused,  saying  that  Patterson  was  beneath  him  in 
rank,  whereupon  Patterson  picked  up  a  handful  of  mud 


THE  RULER  OF  A  NATION.  273 

and  threw  it  in  his  face.  Then  he  drew  his  sword  and 
slashed  furiously  at  the  sailor.  The  grenadier  and  I 
stepped  to  one  side,  and,  in  the  pouring  rain  and  under 
the  sombre  clouds  which  chased  each  other  in  battalions 
across  the  sky,  the  two  men  fought,  each  with  murder  in 
his  heart  and  furious  malice  burning  in  his  eye. 

I  would  have  stopped  it,  for  I  saw  that  the  duel  meant 
death  and  nothing  else,  and  I  did  not  wish  to  look  on  at 
such  things,  but  it  was  too  late  to  prevent  it  now,  as 
to  interfere  meant  only  the  hampering  of  one  or  the 
other.  So  the  grenadier,  who  seemed  to  be  a  decent  fel- 
low, and  I  drew  closer  together,  following  the  fight  with 
our  eyes  as  it  surged  to  and  fro,  forgetting  the  rain  that 
was  drenching  us,  and  that  he  and  I,  too,  should  be 
enemies. 

The  sailor  carried  the  heavier  weapon,  but  Allyn's 
had  the  advantage  of  length,  and  thus  they  were  on  equal 
terms  in  arms,  as  they  seemed  to  be  in  size  and  strength. 
At  first  it  was  cut  and  thrust  with  such  rapidity  that  we 
could  only  follow  the  gleaming  of  their  polished  sword 
blades,  but  presently  each  saw  that  exhaustion  would 
soon  followysuch  efforts,  and  though  their  anger  did  not 
abate  they  fought  with  more  caution  and  steadiness. 

Back  and  forth  they  tramped  over  the  slippery  grass 
and  through  the  sticky  mud.  The  breath  of  both  came 
heavily  and  the  sweat  appeared  upon  their  faces,  which 
were  flushed  and  drawn,  but  they  fought  on,  their  wet 
clothes  flapping  about  them  and  the  soft  earth  trampled 
into  a  mire  by  their  feet.  The  rain  did  not  blow  in  their 
faces,  but  came  straight  down  on  their  heads  and  gave  no 
advantage  to  either.  The  evening  was  far  advanced,  and 
the  light,  weakened  already  by  the  heavy  clouds,  was 
waning.  The  shadow  of  the  dusk  fell  on  the  faces  of 
the  duellists. 

"Which  will  win?"  asked  the  grenadier,  as  he 
stepped  a  little  closer  to  me  with  an  instinctive  feeling 
of  comradeship. 


274  A  HERALD  OP  THE  WEST. 

"  An  even  chance,  I  would  say." 

So  it  seemed  to  me.  The  officer  drove  the  man  back, 
and  then  the  man  drove  the  officer  back,  but  the  arm  and 
eye  of  each  were  still  steady.  Allyn  presently  made  a 
swift  thrust  at  the  sailor's  heart.  His  blade  flicked  in  like 
lightning,  but  the  sailor,  catching  the  thrust  on  his  cutlass, 
turned  it  aside,  and  his  heavy  steel  flashed  back,  to  be 
stopped  by  a  parry  of  equal  swiftness  and  skill.  Then 
they  stood  apart  for  a  few  moments,  still  drawing  deep 
breaths,  but  never  taking  their  eyes  off  each  other.  The 
odds  on  either  were  not  worth  a  straw. 

They  began  again,  and  Allyn  sought  to  keep  a  greater 
distance,  where  the  superior  length  of  his  blade  would 
avail  him  against  the  man  whom  he  had  bullied  and 
given  often  in  the  old  times  to  the  lash.  For  a  while 
he  kept  the  chance,  and  a  swift  thrust  of  his  sword,  which 
Patterson  could  not  parry,  drew  a  few  drops  of  blood 
from  the  sailor's  arm.  Allyn's  face  showed  his  savage 
delight  at  the  red  drops,  which  he  took  to  be  the  signs 
of  victory.  But  the  sailor  was  not  daunted  by  the  break- 
ing of  his  skin,  and  his  eyes  seemed  to  grow  colder  and 
his  arm  steadier.  His  skill  with  the  cutlass  was  sur- 
prising, and  the  prick  in  his  arm  was  a  spur  to  him.  He 
shut  his  teeth  now,  and,  throwing  one  foot  well  forward, 
began  to  press  Allyn  with  swift  blows  that  the  officer 
needed  all  his  skill  for  defence  to  parry,  and  the  blades 
rang  across  each  other  as  blow  after  blow  was  given  and 
parried  and  given  again. 

I  saw  then  that  the  sailor  had  been  saving  his  strength 
and  was  the  stronger  and  better  swordsman  of  the  two, 
and  Allyn  himself  must  have  seen  it,  for  his  face  grew 
livid  and  the  fear  of  death  appeared  in  his  eye. 

Neither  spoke  a  word  from  the  beginning  of  the  battle 
until  its  end,  and  there  was  no  sound  in  the  wet  forest 
save  the  ring  of  steel,  the  shuffling  of  feet  over  the  soft 
earth,  and  the  broken  breathing  of  the  combatants. 
Thus  they  fought  in  the  waning  light;  and  as  Allyn  gave 


THE  RULER  OF  A  NATION.  375 

back  inch  by  inch  before  his  enemy,  the  dusk  was  not  too 
great  to  keep  me  from  seeing  the  fear  of  death  grow  in 
his  eyes.  I  felt  sorry  for  the  man,  in  my  soul  I  did,  and 
despite  the  dangers  of  the  flashing  swords  I  was  about 
to  step  forward  and  interfere,  but  the  grenadier  himself, 
Allyn's  own  man,  divining  my  intention,  put  his  hand 
on  my  arm  and  said: 

"  You  can  not;  you  will  merely  receive  a  wound  your- 
self, and  give  the  advantage  to  one  or  the  other." 

Allyn  made  a  desperate  thrust  at  the  sailor.  It  was 
his  last  chance,  for  the  blade  was  turned  aside,  and  the 
next  instant  the  cutlass  reached  his  heart.  He  sank 
down  in  a  heap,  dying  as  he  had  fought,  without  a  word. 

"  Good-bye,  Mr.  Ten  Broeck,"  said  the  sailor;  "  I  owe 
you  for  a  favour  you  did  me  once,  and  I  wish  you  luck. 
Keep  straight  on  five  miles,  and  you  will  find  the  Govern- 
ment of  the  United  States  in  a  little  tavern  in  an  apple 
orchard." 

He  turned  to  go,  but  seemed  to  remember  something, 
and  said  to  the  British  soldier: 

"  As  for  you,  you  had  better  follow  your  army  as  fast 
as  you  can,  for  it's  leaving  Washington  and  hurrying  to 
its  ships." 

Then  he  was  gone  in  the  forest.  I  never  saw  him 
again,  but  I  heard  years  afterward  of  a  petty  officer  of 
his  name  who  distinguished  himself  for  gallantry  again 
and  again  aboard  the  old  Enterprise  in  her  cruises  against 
the  West  Indian  pirates. 

What  he  said  about  the  English  army  was  true, 
though  we  did  not  know  it  as  a  certainty  until  some  time 
afterward,  for  its  general,  Ross,  grew  alarmed,  and  his 
own  fears  creating  an  overwhelming  hostile  force  ready 
to  fall  upon  him  and  crush  him,  he  fled  with  his  troops 
from  the  devastated  city,  first  to  Bladensburg,  where  the 
dead  of  both  sides  yet  lay  unburied,  and,  abandoning  his 
wounded  there  to  the  care  of  any  Americans  that  might 
come,  continued  his  flight  with  Cockburn  to  the  ships 


276  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

of  the  British  fleet,  leaving  behind  him  a  scene  of  wanton 
outrage  and  desolation,  a  picture  of  fire  and  blood  which 
often  rises  up  before  an  American,  however  much  he 
may  feel  his  kinship  with  the  English,  and  however 
fiercely  even  then  the  better  England  condemned  the  act. 

But  of  this  flight  I  knew  nothing  then,  save  what 
Patterson  had  told,  and  saying  to  the  British  soldier  that 
he  and  I  had  no  quarrel,  I  suggested  that  if  he  would  pur- 
sue his  army  I  would  pursue  my  Government. 

"  One  death  is  enough,"  he  said,  and,  saluting  me,  he 
went  southward.  I  placed  Allyn's  hat  over  his  face,  cer- 
tain that  some  farmer  would  find  him  the  next  day  and 
bury  him,  and  hurried  on  in  the  direction  Patterson  had 
indicated.  I  came  presently  into  a  sort  of  road  through 
the  forest,  and,  sure  that  it  was  the  right  way,  I  followed 
it  with  diligence  and  patience,  though  the  night  came 
in  half  an  hour  and  the  rain  never  ceased  to  fall. 

It  was  slow  work  in  the  mud  and  darkness  for  one 
who  was  worn  to  the  bone  and  near  to  starvation,  but  I 
persevered,  and  had  my  reward,  for  after  a  long  time  I 
saw  three  or  four  tiny  points  of  light  twinkling  through 
the  wet,  dark  forest,  and  came  presently  to  an  orchard  of 
apple  trees,  which  I  knew  to  be  the  place  designated, 
for  in  its  centre  rose  the  formless  shape  of  a  building  of 
some  size.  Half  a  dozen  horses  hitched  to  a  rail  fence 
neighed  as  I  approached  the  tavern,  or  farm  house  rather, 
and  a  man,  rushing  from  some  small  outbuilding,  hailed 
me  in  trembling  tones,  and  putting  a  pistol  to  my  head 
demanded  my  name. 

"  Down  with  your  pistol,"  I  said;  "  Fm  the  American 
army  coming  from  a  glorious  field  to  report  a  glorious 
victory  to  the  Government.  Is  the  President  in  the 
house  there?  " 

The  man  laughed  in  a  hysterical  way  and  went  with 
me  to  the  door. 

"  Yes,  he's  in  there." 

I  pushed  open  the  door,  and  entering,  opposed  by  no 


THE  RULER  OP  A  NATION.  277 

one,  stood  in  what  must  have  been  the  chief  room  of  the 
tavern.  It  was  occupied  now  by  about  a  dozen  men,  two 
or  three  of  whom  slept  on  wooden  settees,  while  the 
others  sat  in  chairs,  their  heads  leaned  against  the  wall, 
grim  and  silent.  Most  of  them  wore  uniforms  spattered 
with  mud.  A  dim  candle  burned  in  a  wooden  sconce,  its 
flame  staggering  like  the  reel  of  a  drunkard,  and  that 
was  the  only  light  in  the  room. 

In  the  muddy,  brooding  man  nearest  the  door  I  rec- 
ognised Cyrus  Pendleton,  new  lines  added  to  the  multi- 
tude that  seamed  his  face,  his  eyes  sunken  and  lustreless. 
I  walked  up  and  spoke  to  him,  and  he  shook  hands  with 
me,  saying  that  he  was  glad  to  see,  me,  but  speaking  with- 
out surprise  or  curiosity. 

"Marian?"  I  said. 

"  In  there;  safe,  but  worn  out,"  he  replied,  nodding 
toward  a  door. 

"  Have  you  told  her  of  Bidwell?  " 

"  Yes." 

I  asked  no  more  about  Marian  just  then,  but  related 
the  sack  of  the  capital  and  how  I  had  witnessed  it. 

"What  a  shame!  What  a  disgrace,  Philip! "  he  said. 
"With  a  thousand  more  regular  troops  we  could  have 
beaten  them,  but  those  clerks  and  farmers  had  to  run 
away! " 

Then  his  own  old  spirit  flamed  up  with  a  suddenness 
surprising  after  a  depression  so  great. 

"  But  we'll  have  other  chances,  Phil,  my  lad,"  he 
said,  "  and  we'll  beat  them  yet,  for  with  equal  leaders 
and  training  and  arms  we're  better  than  they  are,  man 
for  man,  and  we've  shown  it.  What's  Washington  any- 
way but  a  village,  open  to  the  sea  without  defences?  And 
what  was  its  taking  but  a  raid  of  pirates?  Never  mind, 
we'll  beat  them;  they  haven't  met  our  real  soldiers  yet." 

He  talked  in  this  way  for  some  time,  but  the  others 
paid  no  heed  and  seemed  to  be  sunk  in  the  lethargy  of 
exhaustion  and  despair.  I  was  able  to  find  some  food 


278  A  HERALD   OF  THE  WEST. 

in  the  tavern,  and  when  I  had  eaten  it  Cyrus  Pendleton 
told  me  that  the  President  wished  to  see  me. 

"  Come  as  you  are/'  he  said;  "  you  are  not  a  dandy 
just  now,  but  neither  is  the  President." 

I  followed  him  into  an  inner  room,  more  brightly 
lighted  than  the  outer,  for  it  had  two  tallow  candles  to 
the  latter's  one,  though  no  better  off  in  the  matter  of 
furniture.  The  President  sat  in  a  willow  rocking  chair, 
his  face  pale,  drawn,  and  very  old.  His  wife  had  been 
dozing  on  a  settee,  a  piece  of  ragged  carpet  serving  as  a 
blanket,  but  she  opened  her  eyes  as  I  entered.  Hers  was 
the  most  spirited  and  courageous  face  that  I  had  seen 
since  I  left  Washington,  but  she  said  nothing  while  I 
bowed  to  her  and  to  the  President. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you  here  and  to  know  that  you  are 
safe,  Mr.  Ten  Broeck,"  said  Mr.  Madison,  speaking  with 
dignity.  "Mr.  Gallatin  is  your  very  good  friend;  I 
am  too,  I  hope,  and  as  you  have  been  of  some  service  to 
us  already  we  want  you  to  do  another  thing  for  us,  per- 
haps the  greatest  of  them  all." 

I  bowed  and  said  nothing,  waiting  for  him  to  con- 
tinue. 

"  This  raid  upon  Washington,"  said  the  President, 
speaking  with  great  emphasis,  "  is  not  the  most  impor- 
tant plan  of  the  British.  Washington  has  no  military 
value,  and  they  know  they  could  not  hold  it  even  if  it 
had.  But  they  are  organizing  a  far  more  powerful  ex- 
pedition against  a  much  weaker  portion  of  the  coun- 
try, and  it  is  their  object  to  detach  it  from  the  Union 
and  keep  it  forever.  We  have  positive  information  on 
that  point  from  our  agents  abroad,  received  only  yes- 
terday." 

I  listened  with  the  deepest  attention. 

"  The  British  are  going  to  strike  at  New  Orleans," 
he  continued,  "  and  they  think  of  nothing  there  but  suc- 
cess. Along  the  Canadian  border  we  have  powerful  ar- 
mies to  face,  our  troops  there  will  be  busy;  here  in  the 


THE  RULER  OF  A  NATION.  279 

Chesapeake  and  Potomac  we  have  the  armies  and  squad- 
rons of  Ross  and  Cockburn  to  fight.  New  Orleans  is 
thousands  of  miles  away  from  the  old  and  populous  por- 
tions of  the  Union.  We  can  send  no  help  from  here;  it 
is  only  the  new  men  beyond  the  mountains,  the  Kentucki- 
ans  and  Tennesseeans,  who  can  save  it.  We  want  them  to 
know  of  this  projected  invasion  and  to  meet  it.  You 
must  start  in  the  morning  for  Kentucky.  I  will  give  you 
a  letter  to  the  Governor  of  the  State,  warning  him  of 
what  we  expect,  and  every  hour  you  save  in  its  delivery 
will  be  precious.  Can  you  ride  far  and  fast?" 

I  bowed  and  said  nothing,  but  my  heart  was  throbbing 
at  this  fresh  trust  and  my  eager  desire  to  be  with  my 
brethren  of  the  West  and  meet  the  new  danger. 

"  The  backwoodsmen  must  be  raised,"  he  continued, 
"  and  when  they  are  raised  you  can  go  with  them  to  New 
Orleans  if  you  choose." 

I  would  most  certainly  choose. 

"But  don't  think  that  you  are  too  important,"  he 
continued  with  a  little  smile.  "  You  are  not  the  only 
man  to  ride  toward  the  Alleghanies  with  this  news,  for 
the  more  widely  it  is  spread  among  us  the  better.  You 
and  Mr.  Pendleton,  who  is  to  go  with  you,  will  be  the 
first  to  start;  see  that  you  are  the  first  to  arrive.  We 
have  some  good  horses  here,  choose  the  best  of  them  in 
the  morning,  and  when  you  start  your  letter  will  be 
ready  for  you." 

I  bowed  again  and  thanked  him  for  the  honour  of  the 
mission  and  his  trust  in  me,  and  started  to  leave  the 
room. 

"  Tell  the  women  of  Kentucky,"  said  Mrs.  Madison, 
"that  they  must  send  their  sons  and  brothers  and  hus- 
bands to  New  Orleans  to  fight  for  their  country.  Give 
them  that  message  from  me." 

I  promised,  and  hunted  a  corner  in  the  outer  room 
where  I  might  sleep,  feeling  so  tired  that  I  was  forced  to 
leave  the  preparations  for  my  journey  until  the  morning. 


280  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

I  was  not  surprised  that  Cyrus  Pendleton  should  be  going 
with  me  to  the  West,  for  with  this  new  danger  menacing 
us  his  interest  and  inclination  alike  would  call  him 
there,  but  as  my  eyes  closed  in  slumber  I  wondered  dimly 
what  would  become  of  Marian.  I  was  aroused  beyond 
midnight  by  an  alarm  that  the  British  were  at  hand,  and 
as  none  knew  that  it  was  false  the  President  and  his  wife 
fled  to  a  little  hovel  deep  in  the  forest,  where  they  re- 
mained until  day. 

I  was  so  much  worn  that  I  would  have  taken  the 
chance  and  remained  where  I  was,  but  being  a  messenger 
now  for  the  West,  and  of  some  importance  too,  I  fancied, 
I  felt  that  I  had  no  right  to  run  the  least  risk,  and  I  went 
out  again  in  the  wet,  soggy  night  to  follow  the  President 
to  the  hovel.  I  saw  Cyrus  Pendleton  at  the  door,  and 
beside  him  the  straight,  tall  figure  of  a  young  woman, 
wrapped  in  a  long,  dark  cloak.  It  was  Marian.  Even 
had  her  face  been  invisible  I  would  have  known  her. 

"  Philip/'  she  exclaimed,  holding  out  both  her  hands. 
"  We  did  not  know  what  had  become  of  you." 

Her  voice  showed  her  joy  and  her  eyes  shone  in  the 
darkness. 

I  took  her  warm  hands  in  mine  and  gave  them  a 
strong  clasp,  even  though  her  father  looked  on.  Time 
and  place  were  not  usual,  and  one  did  not  expect  con- 
ventional manners. 

"  We  have  been  defeated,  Marian,"  I  said. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied  with  true  woman's  courage;  "  but 
we  will  fight  again  and  win." 

Lucky  is  a  country  when  it  has  brave  men,  but  luckier 
still  when  it  has  brave  women  too. 

We  followed  the  President's  party  to  the  hovel,  and 
with  an  eye  to  the  next  day  I  remembered  Mr.  Madison's 
permission  and  took  with  me  one  of  the  best  horses  that 
I  could  find  in  the  orchard.  I  slept  in  a  little  stable 
near  the  hovel,  and  early  the  next  morning  the  President 
gave  me  the  letter,  bidding  me  ride  fast  and  well.  Cyrus 


THE  RULER  OF  A  NATION.  281 

Pendleton,  clad  for  the  journey,  appeared,  and  with  him 
came  Marian,  dressed  too  as  if  for  a  long  ride. 

"  You  see  that  this  is  a  party  of  three,  and  not  of 
two,  Philip,"  she  said. 

"  I  think  that  the  lady  can  ride  as  well  as  the  men/' 
said  the  President  with  his  usual  tired  little  smile,  "  and 
perhaps  she  can  do  as  much  in  Kentucky  too  as  either 
of  you." 

Then  we  mounted  and  rode  away.  I  looked  back 
once,  and  saw  the  President  of  the  United  States  stand- 
ing on  the  muddy  ground  in  front  of  the  miserable  little 
hovel  in  which  he  had  passed  a  night  of  hiding.  But  the 
sun  of  a  brilliant  day  was  rising,  and  its  golden  radiance 
clothed  the  soaked  earth  and  the  dripping  trees. 


19 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

OVER   THE   MOUNTAINS. 

THE  splendour  of  the  sun  grew  as  the  day  advanced, 
the  earth  became  dry  and  firm,  and  the  drops  of  rain  dis- 
appeared from  the  grass  and  trees.  Though  it  was  the 
time  of  year  for  foliage  to  be  turning  brown  in  those 
latitudes,  plentiful  rains  had  preserved  the  fresh  greenness 
of  early  summer,  and  around  us  we  saw  the  beauty  of 
field  and  forest,  as  peaceful  and  quiet  as  if  no  war  had 
been  within  a  thousand  miles. 

We  rode  at  first  almost  due  west  and  pressed  our 
horses  somewhat  from  the  start,  as  there  was  yet  danger 
from  skirmishing  parties  of  the  British.  At  noon  we 
stopped  for  a  brief  rest,  ate  of  cold  food  which  the  provi- 
dent fur  trader  had  brought,  and  then  turned  to  the 
southwest,  in  order  that  we  might  reach  the  wagon  road 
which  passes  through  Virginia  and  thence  over  the  Cum- 
berland Mountains  to  the  west.  The  main  road  led  to 
the  Holston  River  and  Knoxville  in  Tennessee,  but  far  to 
the  westward  a  spur  turned  off  from  it  toward  the  north, 
and  passing  through  Cumberland  Gap  entered  Kentucky. 
It  had  been  the  great  emigrant  trail,  but  it  was  now 
the  high  road  of  travel,  and  it  was  this  northern  spur  that 
we  three  expected  to  take  on  our  great  journey  to  the 
West,  a  road  of  many  hundred  miles  through  the  rolling 
Virginia  country,  with  its  red  soil  and  sparse  farm  houses, 
then  into  the  higher  hills  with  the  farm  houses  now  many 
miles  between,  and  then  over  the  wilder  mountains  with 
no  houses  at  all,  save  the  lone  hunter's  cabin,  beyond 
which  lay  the  great  valley  of  Kentucky,  our  destination. 


OVER  THE  MOUNTAINS.  283 

It  seemed  that  fate  was  with  us  after  so  many  dis- 
asters, for  the  weather  remained  dry  and  fine  and  the 
road  presented  a  hard  bed,  over  which  we  could  travel 
at  a  swift  pace.  The  scattered  farm  houses  or  an  occa- 
sional tavern  furnished  us  food  and  shelter  for  the  night, 
though  often  we  rode  late  and  twice  exchanged  tired 
horses  for  fresh  ones,  losing  every  time  to  the  shrewd 
farmers,  but  willing  to  make  the  sacrifice  for  the  sake  of 
haste. 

On  we  galloped,  before  us  the  wilderness,  behind  us 
the  war.  Our  knowledge  of  the  latter  stopped  at  the 
hovel  in  the  forest,  beside  the  door  of  which  we  had  left 
the  fugitive  President.  If  there  was  any  news  since 
then  it  lingered  behind  us,  for  we  travelled  fast.  What 
had  become  of  either  the  President  or  the  British  army 
we  knew  not,  and  that  part  of  the  war,  most  likely,  would 
remain  unknown  to  us  for  many  a  day;  we  could  only 
think  about  it  and  wonder  what  the  end  would  be  and  do 
our  best  to  suppress  our  anxiety  and  suspense. 

We  had  begun  our  journey  in  silence  and  depression, 
and  for  the  first  day  no  one  of  the  three  said  much,  but 
the  sunshine,  the  fresh  winds,  the  hope  of  a  great  rising 
beyond  the  mountains,  and  our  rapid  pace  kindled  anew 
our  spirits  and  sent  the  blood  in  a  stronger  and  swifter 
current  through  our  veins.  Not  even  the  memory  of 
BidwelPs  death  could  prevent  the  return  of  buoyancy, 
though  all  three  mourned  him,  but  by  some  sort  of  un- 
conscious substitution  I  seemed  to  take  his  place  in  the 
mind  of  Cyrus  Pendleton.  He  spoke  to  me  in  the  man- 
ned that  he  had  used  formerly  toward  Bidwell,  and  I  was 
content. 

The  ground  burned  our  feet  and  we  hastened  on. 
All  three  of  us  begrudged  every  minute  wasted,  and  I 
recalled  all  the  old  stories  that  I  had  read  in  the  histories 
of  the  fate  of  nations  and  how  it  had  turned  often  on 
the  faith  and  energy  of  one  man,  no  more  important 
than  myself.  Hope  had  taken  the  place  of  depression, 


234:  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

and  hope  now  swelled  into  enthusiasm.  I  recalled  that 
at  the  moment  in  the  Eevolution  when  the  fortunes  of 
the  patriots  had  sunk  to  the  lowest  the  wild  backwoods- 
men suddenly  appeared  from  heyond  the  Alleghanies  and 
struck  the  stunning  hlow  of  King's  Mountain;  and  I  did 
not  believe  that  the  backwoodsmen,  the  sons  of  their 
fathers,  would  fail  us  now  at  an  equal  crisis.  I  knew 
that  beyond  the  mountains  the  people  were  the  most 
American  of  the  Americans,  as  they  are  to  this  day,  and 
as  they  will  ever  be,  I  think;  and  I  knew,  moreover,  that 
however  rough  their  manners,  however  strange  they 
might  appear  in  some  things  to  the  people  of  old  coun- 
tries, they  were  as  sound  of  morals  as  they  were  of  body, 
untouched  by  hidden  sins  and  the  vices  of  corrupted  man- 
ners. Against  a  foreign  foe  there  could  be  no  division 
of  parties  among  them,  and  in  this  particular,  as  well 
as  the  others,  they  are  the  same  now  that  they  were  then, 
and  so  they  will  remain. 

As  our  spirits  rose,  Marian  and  I  talked  much  and 
frequently  rode  on  ahead,  Cyrus  Pendleton  taking  no 
notice,  for  nearly  all  the  time  he  was  deep  in  thought, 
planning,  I  knew,  how  to  raise  troops  for  the  defence  of 
the  South,  and  I  never  doubted  for  a  moment  that  he  him- 
self would  go  too,  though  he  had  not  yet  said  so  in  words. 

I  told  again  the  story  of  poor  BidwelFs  death  and 
how  gallantly  he  had  fallen,  and  Marian  shed  some  tears 
at  the  story,  which  I  did  not  begrudge,  for  it  was  Bid- 
well,  the  playmate,  she  had  known  nearly  all  her  life 
whom  she  lamented,  and  not  Bidwell  the  man  she  loved, 
for  the  latter  he  had  never  been  and  I  knew  could  never 
have  been. 

The  fields  meantime  passed  behind  us  and  the  un- 
broken woods  appeared;  the  houses  were  a  day  apart,  and 
the  ring  of  the  settler's  axe  was  an  unaccustomed  sound. 
Seldom  did  the  smoke  from  a  cabin  float  over  the  trees, 
and  one  day  a  deer  galloped  across  the  road  in  front  of 
us.  We  had  begun  to  ascend  the  slopes  of  the  Allegha- 


OVER  THE  MOUNTAINS.  285 

nies  and  were  in  the  wilderness.  So  vast  is  our  country 
and  so  widely  scattered  are  we,  lost  in  its  forests  and 
on  its  prairies,  that  this  now  was  real,  and  the  scratch 
of  civilization  we  had  left  behind  but  a  dream.  We  sat 
on  our  horses  at  the  crest  of  a  peak  one  evening  and 
looked  at  the  valleys  and  other  peaks  beyond,  clothed  in 
all  the  red  and  gold  splendours  of  the  dying  sun.  We 
could  see  many  miles,  but  valley  and  mountain  alike 
were  covered  with  the  unbroken  forest.  Nature  was 
everywhere,  man  nowhere;  it  was  the  wilderness  of  old, 
genuine  and  true,  and  I  felt  a  certain  awe  while  Marian 
repeated  the  famous  lines  of  our  poet: 

By  midnight  moons  o'er  forest  glades, 
In  vestments  for  the  chase  arrayed, 
The  hunter  still  pursues  the  deer, 
The  hunter  and  the  deer  a  shade. 

Truly  the  men  and  women  who  crossed  those  vast 
mountains  and  entered  the  dark  and  limitless  forests, 
with  savage  and  implacable  enemies  everywhere  around 
them,  are  the  greatest  of  our  heroes,  greater  than  those 
of  any  battle.  We  win  our  land  with  our  blood;  inch 
by  inch  we  have  come  from  the  Atlantic,  and  inch  by 
inch  we  go  on  to  the  Pacific,  watering  the  soil  red  as  we 
go  and  leaving  the  unbroken  trail  of  our  bones.  What 
other  nation  has  won  so  much  and  paid  so  much?  Our 
march  goes  on  now,  and  it  was  going  on  then  behind  the 
mountains  even  while  the  new  nation  on  the  Atlantic 
was  fighting  for  life  against  the  odds  of  Europe. 

Twice  we  overtook  emigrant  trains,  people  to  whom 
the  war  was  nothing,  seeking  fresh  and  rich  lands  in  the 
West,  but  after  we  passed  them  we  were  again  alone  in 
the  wilderness,  save  that  now  and  then  we  met  the  East- 
ern stagecoach  or  some  solitary  horseman.  Often  at 
night  from  the  little  tavern  or  farm  house  in  which  we 
slept  we  heard  the  cry  of  the  panther  in  the  moun- 
tains, like  the  shriek  of  a  woman,  and  by  day  we  saw 


286  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

the  deer  crashing  through  the  woods.  On  the  higher 
mountains  the  foliage  was  hrowning  already  before  the 
breath  of  late  summer,,  and  here  and  there  bits  of  red 
and  yellow,  portending  the  colours  of  Indian  summer, 
gleamed  on  the  loftiest  peaks  like  the  signal  lights  of 
armies. 

Day  after  day  we  rode  on  through  the  wilderness, 
whose  vastness  we  felt  when  we  knew  that  the  peopled 
country  behind  us,  the  old  Thirteen  Colonies,  was  but  a 
narrow  strip  on  its  eastern  shore.  The  war  was  shut 
out  from  us,  for  there  could  be  no  war  where  there  was 
nobody  to  make  it.  But  as  we  advanced  and  passed  the 
backbone  of  the  mountains  a  double  anxiety  began  to 
grow  upon  me — fear  that  we  would  not  arrive  first,  and, 
even  should  that  be  done,  a  fear  lest  the  Western  men 
would  reach  New  Orleans  too  late. 

We  passed  through  Cumberland  Gap  and  thence  to 
the  northwest  over  more  mountains  clothed  in  birch  and 
beech  and  larch  and  laurel,  and  approached  the  great 
plain  of  central  Kentucky,  sinking  down  now  from  the 
mountains  like  a  vast  green  bowl  or  basin  resting  firmly 
on  its  limestone  base. 

Here  the  dividing  line  between  mountain  and  plain 
is  abrupt,  the  former  rising  up  from  the  latter  like  a 
wall,  and  it  was  full  noonday  when  we  reached  the  last 
slope  and  saw  stretched  before  us  the  garden  of  Ken- 
tucky, rolling  gently  awiay  mile  after  mile,  until  it  was 
lost  under  the  horizon,  a  swelling  sea,  green  in  the  sum- 
mer but  now  golden  brown,  with  a  touch  of  autumn;  the 
ripe  wheat  standing  in  the  fields  in  rows  of  little  stacks, 
the  colour  of  gold  in  the  sunshine;  the  tiny  brooks  with 
the  fat  cattle  resting  on  their  banks,  flowing  in  coils  of 
silver;  the  solid  red  brick  houses,  the  neat  stone  fences, 
the  abundance  everywhere,  the  signs  of  thrift,  so  unlike 
the  lazy  Virginia  we  had  left  behind. 

This  was  the  land  of  my  birth,  the  first  American 
outpost  beyond  the  mountains,  to  the  valour  and  endur- 


OVER  THE  MOUNTAINS.  287 

ance  of  whose  people  the  country  owes  all  the  great 
Northwest,  and  to  whom,  next  to  the  Tennesseeans,  it 
owes,  too,  the  saving  of  the  Southwest  at  New  Orleans. 

We  left  the  mountains  behind  us  and  pressed  on  with 
increasing  haste  as  the  road  grew  smoother  before  us. 
The  Pendletons  were  going  to  Lexington,  and  I  was  to 
take  a  more  direct  road  for  Frankfort  and  the  Governor; 
the  time  was  at  hand  for  us  to  part,  but  I  secured  the 
chance  to  say  to  Marian  the  words  which  had  been  in 
my  mind  for  days  as  we  rode  through  the  mountains, 
and  which  I  felt  now  I  had  a  right  to  say. 

"  Marian,"  I  said,  "  I  love  you." 

Her  face  flushed  the  hue  of  the  rose,  but  she  made 
no  answer. 

"Marian,  I  love  you;  will  you  marry  me?" 

"  I  thought  you  were  going  to  New  Orleans  to  fight 
the  English." 

"  So  I  shall;  would  you  have  me  stay?  " 

"  No,  I  would  not  like  you,  Philip,  if  you  did  not  go." 

"  Then  give  me  my  answer." 

"  When  you  come  back  again." 

I  dared  to  take  her  hand  and  kiss  it,  after  our  olden 
style.  When  I  came  back  again!  I  was  not  afraid,  and 
we  rode  on  through  the  deepening  brown  of  the  summer. 

I  was  the  first  to  reach  the  Governor  with  the  mes- 
sage that  the  British  were  coming  with  a  great  force 
against  New  Orleans,  expecting  to  take  the  entire  South- 
west from  us,  and  after  I  had  received  his  thanks  for 
diligence  I  mounted  my  horse  and  rode  to  the  south- 
west to  see  my  father,  knowing  now  that  the  news  of 
the  coming  attack  on  New  Orleans  would  soon  spread 
throughout  the  West. 

It  had  been  four  years  since  I  had  seen  my  father  or 
been  in  Kentucky,  but  around  me  everything  was  the 
same.  To  me  it  seemed  old,  and  I  spoke  of  it  as  the  old 
land  because  I  had  been  born  there;  yet  less  than  forty 
years  ago  it  had  been  a  wilderness  occupied  only  by  the 


288  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

wild  beasts  and  hunting  parties  of  the  Indians.  Here,  as 
elsewhere,  we  had  fought  for  every  inch  of  the  soil,  and  I 
was  treading  ground  already  historic,  for  every  hillside 
bore  the  memory  of  some  fierce  forest  encounter,  and 
though  but  ten  or  fifteen  may  have  fought  it  was  as  im- 
portant to  them  and  as  dangerous  as  the  battlefield  on 
which  a  hundred  thousand  men  meet. 

I  reached  my  father's  house  in  the  middle  of  the 
afternoon,  and  saw  him  sitting  on  the  front  porch  smok- 
ing his  pipe,  his  gigantic  figure,  from  which  I  have  in- 
herited my  own  size  and  strength,  at  ease  in  an  arm- 
chair. He  was  still  strong  and  hearty,  though  far  ad- 
vanced in  years,  with  hair  quite  white.  He  and  my 
mother  had  not  married  until  late,  for  the  Revolution 
coming  on  had  claimed  eight  years  of  such  constant  at- 
tention from  him  that  he  could  find  no  time  to  marry, 
and  after  that  he  had  to  come  to  Kentucky  and  found 
a  new  home  before  he  could  claim  a  wife.  So  I  was  the 
child  of  their  middle  years,  their  only  child,  and  here 
still  lived  my  father,  though  my  mother's  grave  was  in 
the  garden,  marked  by  a  white  stone. 

We  greeted  each  other  with  a  warm  handshake  and 
no  more,  for  we  Western  people  are  taught  to  conceal 
our  emotions,  and  then  when  I  had  rested  and  seen  all 
the  old  folks  whom  I  knew  we  went  in  to  supper,  and 
after  that,  while  we  sat  on  the  porch  in  the  twilight,  I 
told  him  all  I  knew.  He  was  not  surprised  at  the  pro- 
jected attack  upon  New  Orleans;  in  truth,  he  had 
thought  that  it  would  be  made  sooner,  owing  to  the  ex- 
posed nature  of  the  town,  the  foreign  character  of  its 
people,  and  its  vast  distance  from  the  region  containing 
American  population  in  any  numbers. 

"  The  Government  should  have  provided  for  defence 
there  long  ago,"  he  said,  "but  it  has  been  as  lax  about 
New  Orleans  as  it  has  been  careless  about  Washington.  If 
the  spirit  and  foresight  of  the  Government  had  only 
equalled  the  spirit  and  courage  of  the  people  we  woulcl 


OVER  THE  MOUNTAINS.  289 

have  been  victorious  always.  But  it  will  be  different  at 
New  Orleans  nevertheless.  Andrew  Jackson  will  com- 
mand there." 

I  had  heard  of  him,  a  public  man  of  some  note,  and 
likewise  the  brave  and  alert  leader  who  had  taken  the 
Tennessee  militia  against  the  powerful  confederacy  of 
the  Creek  Indians,  an  expedition  which  Mercer  and 
Courtenay  had  joined,  and  before  I  left  Washington  I 
had  received  a  letter  from  Mercer  describing  all  their 
battles,  and  that  last  terrible  one  of  the  Horseshoe  Bend, 
in  which  the  Creek  army  was  annihilated.  Yes,  I  had 
heard  of  Jackson,  and  his  name  brought  confidence.  I 
was  glad,  moreover,  that  we  Westerners  were  to  be  led 
by  a  Western  man,  and  success  or  failure  alike  would 
be  wholly  our  own. 

"  You  must  go  to  New  Orleans,  Philip,"  said  my 
father.  "  It  is  your  duty.  I  should  like  to  go  too,  but 
I'm  too  old  to  fight,  and  I  can  do  more  good  here  by 
sending  others.  It  seems  strange  to  me  that  England, 
who  should  be  the  best  of  our  friends,  is  the  most  bitter 
of  our  enemies.  She  should  welcome  in  us  the  rise  of 
another  Anglo-Saxon  nation,  but  instead  she  has  chosen 
to  persecute  us,  to  tyrannize  over  us,  and  to  crush  us  if 
she  can,  no  matter  what  the  means.  No  other  country 
has  villified  us  to  such  an  extent,  and  I  think  some  time, 
when  all  the  world  is  against  her,  as  it  is  sure  to  be,  she 
will  be  sorry  that  in  these  early  days  she  chose  to  make  us 
her  enemy  when  we  would  be  her  friend,  and  she  will 
want  our  help." 

He  spoke  with  regret,  that  lingering  affection  for  the 
old  country  which  I  had  noticed  so  often  in  the  talk  of 
the  people  of  the  Revolutionary  epoch.  I  am  convinced 
that  the  distrust  and  bitterness  with  which  most  of  us 
regard  Great  Britain  dates  not  from  the  Revolution  but 
from  the  war  of  1812,  and  the  long  period  of  malignity 
and  oppression  immediately  preceding  it,  when  the  worse 
England  ruled  the  better. 


290  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

I  spoke  of  Major  Northcote. 

"  A  man  of  strong  qualities  perverted,"  said  my  fa- 
ther. "  He  was  your  mother's  distant  cousin,  a  child- 
hood playmate  of  hers,  and  was  one  of  the  most  ardent 
of  the  New  York  Loyalists  in  the  Revolution.  Banished 
from  New  York  at  the  close  of  the  war,  and  his  property 
confiscated,  he  went  to  Canada  with  the  others,  United 
Empire  Loyalists  they  call  themselves,  and  I  do  not  sup- 
pose that  this  country  has  a  more  bitter  enemy  the  world 
over.  You  may  meet  him  again  at  New  Orleans,  for  it 
is  said  now  that  the  army  which  the  British  have  in  the 
Chesapeake  will  be  shipped  there." 

I  remained  for  some  time  at  home  or  in  the  vicinity 
preparing  for  the  far  campaign  and  inciting  and  helping 
others  to  do  likewise.  There  was  no  lack  of  spirit,  none 
could  complain  of  that,  for  Kentucky  and  Tennessee 
blazed  up  at  the  news  that  New  Orleans  was  threatened, 
and  as  the  Tennesseeans,  with  the  help  of  the  Georgians, 
had  recently  crushed  the  great  confederacy  of  the  South- 
western Indians,  they  were  full  of  spirit  for  a  new  cam- 
paign against  a  more  powerful  foe.  It  was  the  same  in 
Kentucky;  but  Kentucky,  though  only  twenty  years  a 
State  when  the  war  began  and  still  fresh  from  its  Indian 
wars,  had  been  sending  army  after  army  to  the  North- 
western frontier,  some  of  which  never  came  back  again, 
and  thus  both  States  were  almost  stripped  of  men,  of 
arms,  and  other  military  resources.  But  as  the  President 
had  said  most  truly,  New  Orleans  could  not  save  herself, 
and  if  she  should  be  saved  at  all  the  Kentuckians  and 
the  Tennesseeans  must  come.  And  the  spirit  was  there. 
In  that  war  we  Kentuckians,  though,  as  I  have  said,  but 
twenty  years  a  State,  fought  all  the  way  from  the  north 
woods  of  Canada  to  New  Orleans  over  an  arc  of  two  thou- 
sand miles,  and  the  Tennesseeans  were  as  good.  An  en- 
emy permanently  fortified  at  the  mouth  of  the  Mississippi 
was  what  neither  could  endure,  and  we  had  not  gone  to  so 
much  trouble  to  remove  the  Spaniard  and  the  Frenchman 


OVER  THE  MOUNTAINS.  291 

to  let  the  Englishman  take  his  place.  The  wrath  aroused 
by  the  news  of  the  burning  of  Washington  added  a  new 
flame  to  this  spirit,  and  it  was  a  certainty  that  the  Gov- 
ernor would  have  men  for  New  Orleans,  though  it  was  an- 
other thing  to  arm  them  and  to  get  them  there. 

While  I  helped  with  the  recruits,  the  news  of  the 
glorious  victories  in  the  East  and  North  came  and  in- 
spired us  with  new  ardour  for  our  task.  The  fleets  and 
armies  of  Ross  and  Cochrane  had  been  beaten  off  before 
Baltimore;  the  New  Englanders,  after  their  long  period 
of  sloth  and  halfway  or  whole  treason,  had  shown  that 
they  were  still  of  the  stern  old  stuff  of  the  Revolution, 
and  with  the  aid  of  some  slender  companies  from  New 
York  and  Pennsylvania  had  defeated  the  best  troops  of 
Europe  again  and  again,  man  for  man,  on  the  Canadian 
frontier;  and  then,  too,  came  the  news  that  the  great 
invasion  from  Canada  in  Burgoyne's  old  track  had  been 
beaten  back  at  Plattsburg,  while  at  the  same  time  our 
fleet  on  Lake  Champlain  had  defeated  and  captured  the 
more  numerous  fleet  of  the  British.  The  whole  tide  of  the 
war  changed  now  was  flowing  our  way,  and  we  rejoiced. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

AFLOAT   ON   THE    GKEAT   RIVERS. 

THE  forces  of  the  West  gradually  assumed  some  sort 
of  shape,  and  the  farm  lads  composing  them  were  divided 
into  companies  with  officers  who  had  been  their  com- 
rades on  the  farms  and  whose  military  knowledge  they 
justly  despised.  Some  of  us  had  uniforms,  most  of  us 
had  none;  for  arms  we  brought  our  own  hunting  rifles, 
and  to  these  we  added  our  own  powder  and  lead,  as 
the  state  could  furnish  neither.  Not  much  of  an  arma- 
ment, the  trained  soldier  of  Europe  would  say,  but  let  it 
be  remembered  that  above  all  others  in  the  world,  save  our 
brethren  of  Tennessee,  we  knew  how  to  shoot  straight  at 
the  mark  we  wished  to  hit. 

One  can  not  raise  an  army  in  a  day,  and  though  the 
messengers  flew  and  the  women,  with  that  spirit  which 
the  women  of  the  West  have  shown  always,  urged  us  on, 
the  autumn  waned  and  found  us  still  in  Kentucky  and 
unready.  All  the  land  resounded  with  the  note  of  prepa- 
ration, but  many  of  us  had  a  terrible  fear  that  we  would 
find  the  British,  who  could  come  an  easy  journey  by  sea 
in  their  big  ships,  intrenched  in  New  Orleans,  and  several 
of  us  at  last  obtained  permission  to  go  south  and  join  the 
Tennesseeans,  who  were  sure  now  to  start  before  us, 
though  even  after  we  joined  them  we  would  have  to  come 
back  through  Kentucky.  In  the  beginning  of  November 
I  bade  my  father  farewell,  received  his  command  to  con- 
duct myself  as  a  gentleman  and  a  soldier,  a  command 
given  in  a  low  voice  and  with  the  moisture  in  his  eyes, 
292 


AFLOAT  ON  THE  GREAT  RIVERS.  293 

and  rode  away  to  the  southwest  with  a  troop  of  my  com- 
rades to  meet  the  Tennesseeans  coming  down  the  Cum- 
berland Biver. 

We  rode  fast  under  the  gray  skies  of  November  and 
said  but  little,  for  I  was  thinking  often  of  Marian  and 
her  answer  when  I  came  back  again.  Would  I  come  back 
again,  and  if  I  came,  how? 

We  reached  the  hill  country  in  the  south  of  the  State 
through  which  the  Cumberland  flows,  and  there,  at  a 
little  landing  in  a  wild  and  almost  uninhabited  country, 
found  the  two  flatboats  which  had  been  engaged  for  us. 
We  went  upon  these,  without  food  and  with  scanty  arms, 
and  awaited  the  coming  of  the  Tennesseeans. 

For  two  days  we  stayed  there  in  the  river  in  our  boats, 
and  the  November  rains  came  before  the  Tennesseeans; 
the  skies,  which  had  been  dark  and  threatening  when  we 
started,  opened  and  poured  upon  us  one  unceasing  deluge, 
from  which  we  sought  to  protect  only  our  arms  and  am- 
munition, for  protect  ourselves  we  could  not.  It  was 
a  chill  torrent  too,  and  as  the  raw  winds  of  November 
drove  it  more  fiercely  upon  us,  some  of  us  shivered  in  the 
grip  of  chills  and  fever,  but  none  would  leave  the  boats 
and  stay.  Luckily  we  had  with  us  a  good  supply  of  the 
favourite  beverage  of  our  State,  with  which  we  fought  the 
wet  and  the  cold,  and  just  before  noon  of  the  third  day 
we  heard  the  Tennesseeans  coming. 

Though  the  rain  was  pouring  upon  their  heads  and 
the  wind  was  cutting  their  faces,  they  were  singing  in  the 
deep-voiced  chorus  of  many  hundred  men  one  of  their 
own  wild  backwoods  war  songs,  and  as  they  swept  around  a 
curve  and  appeared  before  us  in  a  fleet  of  boats  that  cov- 
ered the  river  almost  from  bank  to  bank  they  looked  as 
wild  as  their  song  sounded.  They  had  not  been  beautiful 
at  the  start  hundreds  of  miles  away  in  Nashville,  and 
since  then  they  had  toiled  at  the  boats  and  sat  in  the 
pouring  rain  until  their  own  mothers  would  have  taken 
them  for  savages.  Many  wore  the  original  dress  of  the 


294:  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

wilderness  hunter,  the  fringed  buckskin  hunting  shirt, 
the  'coonskin  cap,  and  the  tasseled  deerskin  leggings,  but 
here  they  were,  bold  of  spirit  and  strong  of  body,  em- 
barked upon  their  voyage  of  two  thousand  miles  to  New 
Orleans,  a  journey  almost  as  long  as  the  English  them- 
selves would  have  to  take  from  Europe  and  ten  times 
more  arduous. 

We  took  our  places  in  line  with  them,  receiving  a 
Western  welcome  as  we  came,  all  the  warmer  for  me  be- 
cause there  in  a  boat  in  the  second  line  I  saw  the  faces 
of  my  old  and  true  comrades,  Mercer  and  Courtenay,  and 
at  the  first  chance  we  gripped  hands  again  and  told  of 
our  campaigns.  They  had  been  with  Jackson  through 
the  Indian  war,  and  then  had  come  north,  intending  to 
join  the  army  on  the  Niagara  frontier,  when  the  news 
of  the  expedition  against  New  Orleans  reached  them  at 
Nashville. 

"  There'll  be  a  great  fight  at  New  Orleans  if  we  get 
there  in  time,"  said  Mercer,  "  for  remember  it's  Andrew 
Jackson  who  will  lead  us." 

Then  he  asked  me  about  Marian,  and  I  told  him  of 
her,  and  was  sad  a  little  while  for  him;  though  he  did  not 
know  that  I  understood. 

Courtenay  seemed  to  feel  the  same  confidence  in  Jack- 
son, and  as  they  had  served  under  him  and  knew  him 
I  began  to  share  it.  But  we  were  consumed  by  a  fear 
that  we  would  not  reach  New  Orleans  in  time,  and  an- 
other and  great  trouble  was  added  to  it,  for  I  soon  dis- 
covered that  many  of  the  men  in  the  boats  had  no  arms, 
not  even  a  rifle,  trusting  that  by  some  good  luck  they 
would  find  weapons  awaiting  them  at  New  Orleans.  Our 
commander,  General  Carroll,  showed  his  anxiety  in  his 
face,  but  there  was  nothing  to  do  save  to  press  on  with 
oar  and  paddle  and  current  and  stout  hearts.  The  rain 
continued  to  fall  from  clouds  unbroken  by  any  shaft  of 
blue;  from  horizon  to  horizon  they  rimmed  us  in,  hosts 
of  them,  leaden  and  threatening,  and  we  shivered  in  the 


AFLOAT  ON  THE  GREAT  RIVERS.  295 

boats  and  lay  upon  our  precious  powder  to  keep  it  dry. 
The  country  was  wild,  sterile,  and  lonely,  and  for  a  day 
at  a  time  we  would  see  no  house,  only  the  dark  river 
flowing  on  between  sombre  banks,  with  the  leaden  clouds 
stalking  in  unbroken  regiments  across  the  sky.  The 
water  turned  from  dark  blue  to  lead  and  from  lead  to  a 
reddish  mud;  and  now  came  our  compensation,  for  the 
peaceful  Cumberland,  flooded  by  the  heavy  rains,  was 
changed  to  an  angry  torrent  rushing  on  with  doubled  cur- 
rent to  the  Ohio  and  bearing  us  at  double  speed  upon  its 
muddy  bosom.  We  forgave  the  rain,  for  swiftness  was 
what  we  wished  above  all  things,  and  the  wild  songs  of  the 
woods  were  sung  again. 

I  dreamt  a  dream  the  other  night, 
When  all  was  still  and  clear, 
I  dreamt  I  had  a  brand  new  coat 
Made  out  of  daddy's  old  one. 

There  was  no  sense  in  that  verse,  but  it  and  other 
such  were  thundered  out  many  a  dark  and  rainy  night  as 
we  swept  along  on  the  muddy  current  of  rushing  rivers. 
On  we  went  to  the  north  and  west  across  the  whole  State 
of  Kentucky,  and  then  the  stream  of  the  Cumberland 
bore  us  into  the  greater  Ohio,  and  the  Ohio  took  us  up 
and  carried  us  on  now  to  the  southwest  through  rich, 
flat  country,  and  then  into  the  still  greater  Mississippi,  the 
Father  of  Waters,  now  a  vast,  muddy  ditch,  flowing  be- 
tween low,  soft  banks  at  which  the  water  is  forever  eating. 

The  sun  came  out  here,  after  days  of  rain,  and,  clear 
and  brilliant,  shone  down  upon  us.  The  crisp  coolness 
of  early  winter  drove  away  the  fever  and  the  sick  rose 
from  their  beds,  mostly  a  blanket  on  the  boat's  bottom. 
But  despite  the  sunshine  we  floated  on  through  a  gray 
and  gloomy  country.  The  banks  of  the  Mississippi  below 
the  mouth  of  the  Ohio  are  not  beautiful,  with  their 
ragged  fringe  of  bushes  and  trees  and  their  ugly  muddy 
colour,  and  the  stream  itself,  a  vast  expanse  of  thick 


296  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

viscous  chocolate  fluid,  offers  no  charm  save  that  of  som- 
bre grandeur.  From  these  miasmatic  banks  and  marshy 
bottoms  the  houses  flee,  and  the  flowing  river  took  us 
through  the  lonely  wilderness.  As  we  went  on  the  wilder 
and  more  desolate  it  grew,  and,  in  truth,  we  would  soon 
be  crossing  the  immense  region  uninhabited  save  by  a  few- 
hunters  and  Indian  traders  which  stretched  between  Ten- 
nessee and  New  Orleans.  We  were  Argonauts  going  to 
meet  a  certain  foe. 

On  the  second  day  after  leaving  the  Ohio  Courtenay 
and  I  were  in  a  boat  in  the  front  line,  and  he  suddenly 
raised  his  voice  and  sang  out  like  a  sailor: 

"Sail  ho!" 

Far  ahead  of  us,  in  the  middle  of  the  stream,  floated 
a  clumsy  vessel  which  looked  like  a  rough  imitation  of 
the  ark  of  the  Scriptures — a  wide,  awkward  boat,  its  decks 
covered  with  a  board  roof.  It  seemed  to  be  lumbering 
along  in  the  trough  of  the  stream  without  any  definite 
course,  like  a  drunken  man  who  does  not  know  where  he  is 
going. 

"A  prize!"  shouted  Courtenay.  "A  prize  for  the 
Captain  Kidds  of  the  Mississippi! " 

The  men  in  sport  took  up  the  cry,  for  we  were  young, 
most  of  us,  many  mere  boys,  and  some  remarked  that  the 
ark  must  be  loaded  heavily  as  she  lay  deep  in  the  water. 
The  general  ordered  two  or  three  of  our  boats  to  use  all 
the  sweeps  and  paddles  available  and  overtake  the  strange 
vessel  and  see  what  it  was,  a  command  which  we  obeyed 
with  alacrity,  since  a  chase  was  an  event  on  those  lonely 
waters. 

The  prize  did  not  seek  to  escape  us,  and  when  we 
overhauled  her  we  found  that  the  term  we  had  applied 
in  jest  was  as  true  as  man  ever  spoke.  A  prize  she  was, 
the  prize  of  all  prizes  for  us,  for  she  was  loaded  down  with 
rifles,  muskets,  and  ammunition  destined  for  our  forces  at 
New  Orleans,  shipped  at  random  and  without  any  definite 
instruction  by  some  lazy  State  official  after  the  manner  of 


AFLOAT  ON  THE  GREAT  RIVERS.      997 

our  State  officials.  One  universal  shout  of  joy  went  up 
from  that  little  ragged  army  of  floating  backwoodsmen, 
and  the  whole  of  the  cargo  was  divided  among  them, 
giving  every  man  a  rifle  or  musket  and  plenty  of  powder 
and  ball,  with  a  quickness  that  would  have  shamed  Cap- 
tain Kidd  aboard  the  richest  treasure  ship  that  he  ever 
took.  It  may  be  that  our  capture  of  that  ark  saved — 
but  of  that  hereafter. 

Then  forward  we  went,  now  fully  armed  and  lighter 
of  heart,  on  our  long  journey  to  the  South.  We  passed 
the  mouths  of  great  rivers,  flowing  from  western  regions, 
which  no  white  man  had  yet  entered,  and  from  the  east- 
ern shore,  too,  stream  after  stream  emptied  its  torrent  into 
the  yellow  Mississippi.  All  were  in  flood,  swelled  by  the 
winter  rains,  and  the  Mississippi,  also,  rose  with  their 
tribute  and  overlapped  its  low  banks.  Sometimes  in  the 
swampy  country  it  spread  away  to  the  right  and  left  for 
miles,  until  on  either  side  we  could  see  no  shore;  then  it 
flowed  between  the  soft  mud  hills  again  and  at  night 
in  the  darkness  we  could  hear  the  chunk,  chunk  of  tons 
of  earth  falling  into  deep  water  as  the  hills,  eaten  away 
at  their  base,  tumbled  into  the  river;  then  the  day  would 
come  again  and  the  sun  would  shine  over  a  yellow,  muddy 
sea,  sometimes  half  covered  with  bush  and  trees  and  roots 
and  other  debris,  brought  often  from  the  mountains  thou- 
sands of  miles  away.  But  the  current  always  carried  us 
on  toward  New  Orleans,  and  we  spent  part  of  the  days 
now  drilling  on  the  barges  and  flatboats,  forming  in  little 
companies  and  learning  how  to  present  our  rifles  and  fire 
at  the  word  of  command. 

As  we  swept  Southward  the  air  grew  warmer,  though 
the  winter  was  advancing  and  I  perceived  now  that  we 
were  approaching  a  semitropical  region.  The  vegeta- 
tion, the  colour  of  everything  changed.  It  was  no  longer 
the  stern  north  of  a  Kentucky  winter,  which  is  southern 
only  by  comparison  with  the  States  farther  north,  and  we 
were  fast  approaching  the  sunny  lands  of  the  Gulf  coun- 
20 


A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

try.  Some  scrubby  trees  on  the  banks  of  the  river  were 
pointed  out  to  us  as  orange  groves,  and  we  saw,  too,  the 
live  oaks,  the  clinging  moss,  and  the  slimy  cypress,  proofs 
of  a  warm  South. 

But  still  there  was  no  news;  the  world  had  closed  be- 
hind us  and  was  unknown  before  us.  We  could  only 
guess,  until  far  down  in  Louisiana  we  saw  a  man  in  a  boat 
fishing  near  the  shore.  He  was  not  disturbed  by  our 
approach,  and  did  not  rouse  himself  from  his  half  sleep 
as  one  of  our  arks  was  turned  toward  him. 

"  Hallo,  there! "  shouted  the  biggest  of  our  Tennes- 
seeans. 

"Hallo  yourself!     What  do  you  want?" 

"  Are  the  British  at  New  Orleans?  " 

"  Yes." 

A  chill,  a  deadly  paralysis,  fell  upon  us  all.  We  had 
come  nearly  two  thousand  miles,  only  to  be  too  late,  to 
find  the  British  already  in  New  Orleans. 

"Keep  on!"  suddenly  said  the  fisherman,  dropping 
his  line  back  into  the  water.  "  The  British  are  at  New 
Orleans — before  it,  but  not  in  it.  Go  on.  Andrew  Jack- 
son is  waiting  for  you!  " 

Again  the  thundering  cheer  of  two  thousand  men 
rose  as  it  had  risen  when  we  overtook  the  boatload  of 
arms,  and  without  another  word  we  turned  once  more 
toward  New  Orleans  and  pushed  on,  oar  and  sweep  aiding 
current. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

THE    WAY    OF   ANDREW   JACKSON. 

WE  arrived  at  the  levee  in  New  Orleans  on  a  cool  day 
in  the  middle  of  December  after  more  than  a  month 
upon  the  rivers,  and  I  looked  with  the  keenest  interest 
at  this  old  French-Spanish  city,  but  a  few  years  ours  and 
still  foreign,  for  now  I  had  made  the  semicircle  of  our 
great  towns  from  Boston  in  the  Northeast  to  New  Or- 
leans in  the  Southwest,  and  all  had  been  much  alike,  ex- 
cept this,  which  was  different  and  new  to  me  in  every- 
thing. I  saw  before  me  a  broad  levee  shaded  with  trees, 
with  the  great  cross  of  the  cathedral  showing  beyond, 
while  along  the  river  front  rose  handsome  houses,  homes 
of  brick,  some  several  stories  high  and  standing  in  gar- 
dens surrounded  by  high  stone  or  concrete  walls  with 
iron  lattice  gates.  It  was  green  and  fresh  with  the  roses 
blooming  in  winter,  and  the  houses  and  the  foliage  and 
the  perfumes  were  very  welcome  to  us  who  had  spent 
many  weeks  upon  swollen  and  muddy  rivers. 

There  came  to  meet  us  a  great  crowd,  dark  in  com- 
plexion, clothed  in  bright  colours,  and  talking  much  in 
foreign  languages,  and  though  their  speech  was  strange, 
the  accents  were  warm  and  friendly,  and  we  knew  that  we 
were  welcome.  It  was  the  Creole  population,  the  de- 
scendants of  the  French  and  Spanish,  with  their  many 
mixtures,  who  bore  themselves  in  the  defence  in  a  man- 
ner worthy  of  the  French  of  Henry  of  Navarre  and  the 
Spanish  of  Gonsalvo  de  Cordova.  We  were  not  a  pretty 
lot,  brown  as  Indians,  in  wild  attire  and  plastered  with 

299 


300  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

the  mud  of  the*  Mississippi,  but  they  received  us  as  if 
we  had  come  in  brand  new  uniforms  covered  with  gold 
lace  and  with  bands  playing,  and  our  hearts  grew  warm. 

When  we  disembarked  from  the  boats  we  fell  into  line 
and  marched  away  to  our  quarters,  glad  to  feel  our  feet 
upon  earth  again,  though  it  is  none  too  solid  at  New 
Orleans.  Some  of  the  handsome  Creole  ladies  waved 
fans  and  bouquets  of  flowers  at  us  from  their  little  bal- 
conies, and  more  than  one  lank  six-foot  Tennesseean  tried 
to  smile  back,  but  grinned.  The  Lord  knows  we  were  not 
beautiful,  but  we  did  the  best  we  could,  and  surely  woman 
can  ask  no  more.  One  of  our  men  had  his  eyes  on  a 
black-haired  girl  just  peeping  over  the  top  of  her  fan 
when  some  one  on  the  sidewalk  called  out  to  him: 

"  Keep  in  your  place,  you  there!  Attend  to  your  duty! 
You've  come  for  fighting,  not  courting! " 

I  saw  well  the  officer  who  called  out,  for  he  was  not 
six  feet  from  me,  a  tall,  thin  old  man,  with  a  long,  sharp 
face,  over  which  was  spread  a  network  of  seams  and  wrin- 
kles, with  a  deep  cut,  as  if  from  a  sword,  nestling  on  one 
side.  His  chin  projected,  his  complexion  was  sallow, 
and  a  little  leather  cap  did  not  conceal  the  mop  of  iron- 
gray  hair  which  rose  up  straight  and  threatening  on  his 
head  and  seemed  to  match  the  fierce  bright  eyes  shaded 
by  heavy  brows.  His  clothing  was  mean  and  faded — a 
short,  blue  Spanish  cloak,  tight  trousers  of  which  I  would 
have  been  ashamed,  they  were  so  frayed  and  worn,  and 
high-top  boots,  rusty  and  covered  with  mud. 

The  Tennesseean  who  had  been  rebuked  was  angry. 
Every  Western  man  is  as  good  as  the  President  and  does 
not  like  to  be  abused,  and  he  was  about  to  reply  in  a  man- 
ner that  would  not  have  been  polite,  when  Courtenay 
jerked  him  by  the  arm  and  whispered: 

"Hush!    Not  a  word!     That's  General  Jackson!" 

When  the  general  came  the  next  day  to  see  his  "  boy 
heroes  of  the  Creek  war,"  as  he  called  Mercer  and 
Courtenay  and  the  others  who  had  been  with  him  in  those 


THE  WAY  OF  ANDREW  JACKSON.  301 

campaigns,  I  was  presented  to  him  and  at  once  submitted 
to  the  charm  and  courtliness  of  his  manner,  which  were 
so  marked,  despite  his  backwoods  appearance,  as  every 
one  who  knew  him  will  testify.  I  am  not  an  unqualified 
admirer  of  General  Jackson,  and  I  was  always  for  Clay 
instead  of  Jackson  for  the  presidency,  as  I  do  not  believe 
in  electing  soldiers  to  a  civilian  office,  but  I  think  that  he 
represented  some  of  the  strongest,  sanest,  and  most  moral 
elements  in  our  population,  and  at  New  Orleans  he  was 
the  right  man  in  the  right  place — alert,  far-seeing,  and 
with  the  will  of  the  great  Napoleon  himself.  He  treated 
me  with  much  consideration,  and  asked  me  some  ques- 
tions. 

"  You  were  at  Washington,  Lieutenant  Courtenay 
tells  me,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,  I  fought  there." 

"  You  fought  there!  I  understand  there  was  no 
fighting  at  Washington;  all  running." 

"  I  stayed  with  Barney's  marines." 

"  They  did  their  duty.  I  hope  that  all  of  us  here  may 
do  as  well." 

With  that  he  dismissed  us,  and  we  used  a  little  leisure 
to  wander  over  the  strange,  mossy,  and  beflowered  city, 
with  its  high-walled  and  window-barred  houses,  and  to 
make  friends  with  the  lively  Creoles  and  San  Domingans 
who  were  to  fight  by  our  side.  But  this  had  to  be  done 
quickly,  for  the  British  threat  was  growing  more  ominous. 
Their  fleet  lay  at  the  entrance  to  Lake  Borgne,  which  is 
northeast  of  New  Orleans,  and  a  powerful  force  of  barges 
and  launches  crossing  the  lake  had  already  destroyed 
our  six  little  gunboats  in  a  desperate  fight,  in  which  our 
men,  though  defeated  by  overwhelming  numbers,  be- 
haved with  a  courage  and  tenacity  which  had  shown  the 
British  that  though  it  was  but  a  few  miles  to  New  Or- 
leans it  was  a  long  road  to  travel.  But  we  in  the  city, 
who  knew  the  slenderness  of  the  defences  and  how  few 
were  the  soldiers,  scarcely  dared  to  hope.  Coffee's  men 


302  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST 

were  there,  the  eight  hundred  Tennessee  Indian  fighters 
whom  Jackson  had  summoned  at  the  first  alarm  from  the 
Indian  country,  coming  eight  hundred  miles  without  a 
stop,  the  last  hundred  and  fifty,  from  Baton  Rouge  to 
New  Orleans,  in  two  days,  a  record  which,  I  think,  has 
not  been  equalled  even  on  the  open  fields  and  hard 
roads  of  Europe;  hut  even  these  and  Carroll's  Tennes- 
seeans  and  the  Creoles  and  the  San  Domingans  and  the 
French  refugees  and  the  free  blacks  made  but  a  few 
thousand  badly  armed  men  against  the  magnificently 
equipped  fleet,  with  its  twenty  thousand  soldiers  and  sail- 
ors, which  the  British  had  at  the  entrance  to  the  lake 
or  on  it.  So  I  prayed  now  in  my  heart  for  the  Kentuck- 
ians  who  were  afloat  somewhere  on  the  Mississippi,  and 
the  general  swore  at  their  tardiness  with  violence  and  pro- 
fusion, for  he  was  a  very  proficient  man  with  oaths,  which, 
I  have  heard  from  many  authorities,  are  quite  as  effective 
in  war  as  prayer.  But  neither  oaths  nor  prayers  brought 
the  laggard  Kentuckians;  the  muddy  river  flowed  past, 
but  no  soldiers  came  on  its  current,  and  there  was  abuse 
of  my  Kentucky  brethren,  to  which  I  listened  not  always 
in  silence,  for  I  knew  that  if  they  were  slow  it  was  not 
their  fault,  and  I  reminded  those  around  me  that  in  all 
the  war  Kentucky  had  given  her  blood  more  freely  than 
any  other  State. 

Whether  help  came  or  not  there  were  no  sluggards  in 
New  Orleans,  and  the  work  of  defence  went  on  by  day 
and  by  night.  At  Washington  there  had  been  chaos; 
here  were  order,  discipline,  purpose,  and  I  saw  that  to 
fight  one  must  have  soldiers,  and  to  lead  them  one  must 
have  generals.  There  was  no  marching  to  and  fro  here, 
no  waste  of  energy,  but  each  man  knew  what  to  do  and 
did  it,  for  infused  into  all  were  the  spirit  and  iron  will 
of  Jackson,  one  man  dominating  an  army  and  a  city,  fill- 
ing both  with  his  own  courage  and  energy. 

"  You  should  have  seen  him  in  the  Indian  country," 
said  Courtenay  to  me.  "  He  was  sick  near  to  death  there, 


THE  WAY  OF  ANDREW  JACKSON.  303 

bent  double  with  terrible  internal  pains,  but  he  was  the 
general  just  the  same.  By  day  we  carried  him  in  an  old 
chair,  on  which  he  sat  astride  with  his  stomach  pressed 
over  the  back,  for  only  in  that  way  could  he  endure  his 
suffering,  and  at  night  we  bent  down  a  sapling  and  he 
hung  himself  across  it  and  slept  by  snatches;  but  whether 
by  day  or  night  he  commanded  everything  and  forgot 
nothing.  That  is  the  man  who  leads  us;  and  we  have 
two  armies — ourselves  the  one,  and  Jackson  the  other." 

So  we  drilled  on  from  day  to  day,  preparing  defences, 
ransacking  the  town  for  arms  and  ammunition,  and  try- 
ing to  divine  the  British  plans.  It  was  now  that  the  situ- 
ation of  New  Orleans,  amid  a  network  of  river  and 
swamp  and  lake  and  bayou,  was  its  greatest  advantage, 
for  the  British,  despite  overwhelming  force,  were  com- 
pelled to  move  slowly,  and  their  fleet,  though  it  had 
brought  the  army  to  Louisiana,  could  not  reach  New  Or- 
leans. All  these  things  made  for  time,  and  time  was 
what  we  needed  most  of  all  things. 

On  the  third  day  after  my  arrival  I  was  sent  with  a 
small  detachment  through  the  woods  and  swamps  and 
around  the  great  curve  of  Lake  Borgne  to  see  what  the 
British  fleet  was  about.  It  was  a  long  journey  through 
quaking  and  malarious  swamps  and  dark  wet  woods  and 
across  creeks  and  sluggish  bayous,  but  we  remembered 
Coffee's  Indian  fighters  who  had  marched  from  Baton 
Rouge  to  New  Orleans,  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles,  in 
two  days,  and  at  last,  well  coated  with  slime  and  mud,  we 
came  out  at  the  southeastern  corner  of  Louisiana  and 
looked  at  the  great  British  fleet  as  it  lay  anchored  at  the 
mouth  of  the  lake,  which  was  too  shallow  for  the  naviga- 
tion of  the  frigates  and  ships  of  the  line. 

We  were  only  six  in  number,  and,  having  made  our 
way  through  a  marshy  stretch  of  ground  to  the  shore,  we 
lay  hidden  there  in  the  mud  and  swamp  grass,  where  we 
could  easily  see  the  fleet  of  our  enemies. 

It  was  the  most  formidable  armament  that  my  eyes 


304  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

had  ever  rested  upon,  and  as  far  as  the  spy-glass  I  had 
brought  with  me  would  carry  I  saw  British  sails  and 
British  sails.  There  lay  the  ships  in  the  harbour  of  Ship 
Island,  in  the  pass  between  Ship  Island  and  Cat  Island, 
and  on  to  Chandeleur  Island;  ships  of  the  line,  frigates, 
sloops,  brigs  and  transports,  the  Union  Jack  floating  over 
all — an  assembled  power  which  made  me  sick  at  heart,  re- 
membering the  ragged  and  half-armed  little  army  of  a 
few  thousand  men  which  I  had  left  behind. 

I  put  my  little  telescope  to  my  eyes  again  and  the 
ships  came  nearer,  I  could  read  their  names.  There  in 
the  centre  was  the  Tonnant,  a  ship  of  the  line  of  eighty 
guns,  taken  from  the  French  by  Nelson  at  the  Nile,  and 
over  her  flew  the  flag  of  the  commander  of  the  fleet,  Vice- 
Admiral  Cochrane,  the  man  who  had  given  the  order  to 
lay  waste  the  American  coast  and  destroy  every  town  that 
could  be  reached,  and  had  seen  it  carried  out;  with  him 
was  Admiral  Codrington,  destined  to  win  fame  years  after 
in  Navarino  Bay.  Beside  the  Tonnant  lay  the  Koyal  Oak 
of  seventy-four  guns,  with  another  admiral  on  board; 
and  still  farther  on  the  Ramillies,  a  seventy-four,  com- 
manded by  Sir  Thomas  Hardy,  who  received  the  dying 
Nelson  in  his  arms  at  Trafalgar;  and  then  the  Asia  and 
the  Armide  and  the  Sea  Horse  of  the  same  size,  and  more 
frigates  and  sloops  and  transports  than  I  could  count. 
They  carried  the  British,  fresh  from  triumphs  in  Spain 
and  France,  and  that  army,  too,  which  had  made  •  its 
victorious  raid  on  Washington,  expecting  to  repeat  its  ex- 
ploit here. 

As  I  looked  my  heart  swelled  with  a  sense  of  anger, 
indignation,  and  injustice — injustice  because  everything 
had  been  made  so  easy  for  them,  so  hard  for  us.  They 
had  come  in  overwhelming  numbers  in  their  great  ships 
as  comfortably  as  travellers  on  a  pleasure  voyage.  They 
were  accounted  the  best  troops  in  Europe,  they  had  served 
in  many  campaigns,  knew  all  the  tricks  and  ways  of  war, 
and  were  led  by  skilled  and  able  generals.  We  were  but 


THE  WAY  OP  ANDREW  JACKSON.  305 

a  few,  none  well  armed,  some  not  armed  at  all,  clad,  many 
of  us,  in  our  homespun  and  tanned  deerskin,  led  by  gen- 
erals who  had  fought  only  against  the  Indians  and  knew 
no  civilized  foe,  and  we  had  come  a  vast  distance  on  a 
journey  longer  and  far  harder  than  theirs  to  defend  the 
country  that  was  ours. 

But  there  was  a  sense  of  anger  even  greater  and 
beyond  that,  for  in  advance  they  had  detached  the  South- 
west from  us  and  made  Louisiana  a  dependency  of  the 
British  crown.  On  those  ships  came  a  complete  staff  of 
civil  officials,  appointed  and  classified  for  the  government 
of  Louisiana — so  sure  were  they  of  its  conquest — revenue 
collectors,  clerks,  printers,  printing  presses,  stationery 
marked  and  stamped,  all  the  paraphernalia  of  office.  A 
new  government,  measured,  cut  to  order,  ticketed,  and 
pigeonholed  had  been  packed  aboard  the  ships,  and  there 
was  nothing  more  to  do  but  to  land  and  set  it  to  working. 
Castlereagh,  the  British  representative  with  the  allied  ar- 
mies, had  said  days  before  in  Paris,  occupied  by  the  vic- 
torious allies:  "  I  expect  at  this  moment  that  most  of  the 
large  seaport  towns  of  America  are  laid  in  ashes,  that  we 
are  in  possession  of  New  Orleans,  and  have  command  of 
all  the  rivers  of  the  Mississippi  Valley,  and  that  the 
Americans  are  now  little  better  than  prisoners  in  their 
own  country."  Bonaparte  had  just  been  sent  to  Elba,  and 
the  British  had  been  the  chief  cause  of  his  going  there. 
Flushed  with  such  a  triumph,  they  thought  little  of  the 
Americans,  who  were  without  military  resources  and  had 
sought  to  found  a  peaceful  nation.  It  was  the  knowledge 
of  such  things  that  made  my  feelings  bitter  as  I  looked 
at  their  powerful  fleet. 

Though  December,  the  sunshine  was  warm  and  bright. 
The  water  rippled  gently  away  before  a  light  wind  from 
the  west  in  streaks  of  silver  and  blue  and  gold;  the  white 
sails  of  the  ships  gleamed  like  snow,  rays  of  sunshine 
flashed  across  the  red  uniforms  and  gold  lace  of  the  offi- 
cers who  walked  the  decks,  and  the  murmur  which  many 


306  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

thousand  men  always  make,  even  at  their  quietest,  came 
over  the  waters  to  us.  Three  or  four  bands  were  playing 
too,  and  theirs  were  conquering  airs. 

For  over  an  hour  we  lay  there  and  watched  them,  and 
then  we  saw  many  men  embarking  in  boats  and  launches 
and  passing  up  the  lake,  of  which  they  had  already  ob- 
tained command.  Boat  after  boat  was  filled,  and  I  guessed 
that  it  was  a  movement  of  importance.  One  could  ob- 
tain little  information  by  lying  there  in  the  mud,  and  we 
rose  to  retreat,  hoping  to  find  some  wandering  fisherman 
or  hunter  who  could  give  us  facts  worth  our  knowing. 

I  suggested  to  the  men  that  we  divide  and  meet  again 
at  a  certain  spot  that  we  had  noticed  as  we  came,  about 
three  miles  back,  as  in  this  manner  we  would  have  six 
chances  to  one  before  of  finding  information,  and  we  soon 
lost  sight  of  one  another  among  the  banks  and  swamp 
grass.  I  turned  northward.  I  was  tired  of  wading  in 
mud  and  stepping  on  moss  through  which  my  feet  went 
as  if  it  had  been  thin  ice,  and  the  ground  seemed  to 
grow  firmer  as  I  advanced.  I  passed  out  of  the  swamp 
and  into  a  belt  of  thick  woods,  which  I  crossed  in  a 
few  minutes  and  saw  beyond  a  small  clearing  with  a 
hut  in  the  centre.  This  was  was  the  place  for  my  fisher- 
man or  hunter;  this  was  sure  to  be  his  house,  and  I 
might  find  him  at  home.  I  hurried  forward,  and  as  I 
stepped  from  the  trees  some  one  hurled  himself  upon  me. 
I  saw  the  red  of  an  English  uniform,  and  having  no 
time  to  draw  a  weapon,  I  grasped  him  by  the  shoulders, 
as  his  body  struck  me,  and  threw  him  into  the  air  with  a 
violent  effort  of  my  strength.  It  was  lucky  for  him 
that  an  arm  of  the  marsh  protruded  into  that  clearing, 
for  he  struck  in  the  soft  and  oozing  mud,  squawking  like 
a  goose,  and  stuck  there.  But  when  I  turned  to  see  if 
any  one  else  was  near  I  found  myself  covered  by  the 
muskets  of  four  English  soldiers. 

"You'd  better  surrender,"  said  one,  "or  we'll  blow 
your  head  oft" 


THE  WAY  OF  ANDREW  JACKSON.  307 

Certainly  they  held  the  advantage,  all  the  advantages 
in  fact;  if  I  had  only  been  a  little  closer  I  might  have 
made  a  fight  even  against  them  all,  but  any  hostile  move- 
ment now  was  sure  death.  It  was  a  moment  of  the  bit- 
terest disappointment  to  me  to  be  caught  so  in  a  swamp 
on  a  petty  scouting  expedition,  when  I  had  been  building 
great  hopes  of  achievement,  but  there  was  nothing  to  do 
except  to  yield. 

"  Very  well,  I  give  up,"  I  said,  and  I  knew  I  said  it 
sullenly. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  asked  the  man  who  had  spoken. 
He  seemed  to  be  a  sergeant  or  corporal. 

"  An  American  soldier,"  I  replied.  I  said  it  with  as 
much  dignity  as  I  could  muster,  though  I  am  afraid  my 
muddy  and  bedraggled  appearance  was  against  me. 

"  Indeed!  You  are  frank,"  he  said,  looking  at  me  in 
a  curious  way  that  I  did  not  understand.  "  Come  into 
the  cabin,  the  major  may  want  to  talk  to  you." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

SENTENCED. 

HE  pushed  open  the  door  of  the  hut  and  entering  I 
stood  before  my  kinsman,  Major  Gilbert  Northcote.  I 
saw  the  look  of  surprise  upon  his  face,  usually  so  self- 
contained,  for  he  could  not  fail  to  recognise  me  despite 
the  mud  which  incased  me  like  a  coat  of  armour. 

"  A  surprise,  but  not  a  pleasant  one,  Cousin  Philip," 
he  said. 

"  Oh,  I  can  stand  it  if  you  can/'  I  replied,  and  then 
I  was  sorry  I  had  made  such  a  reply,  for  I  felt  that  it 
was  flippant. 

"  I  am  not  so  sure  of  that,"  he  replied  ambiguously. 

Since  it  was  my  kinsman  who  was  my  captor  I  decided 
to  make  myself  at  home,  and  looking  around  saw  a  box 
upon  which  I  took  my  seat.  Then  I  examined  the  place 
with  interest.  As  I  had  guessed  at  first  sight  from  the 
outside,  it  was  the  hut  of  a  hunter  or  fisherman,  though 
occupied  now  by  altogether  different  people,  containing 
only  a  few  articles  of  furniture,  and  those  of  the  rudest 
description.  Some  tanned  skins,  jerked  meat,  and  dried 
vegetables  hung  on  the  walls.  In  the  corner  was  a  camp 
bed,  evidently  brought  from  one  of  the  ships  for  the  use 
of  Major  Northcote.  The  major  himself  was  sitting  on 
a  camp  stool,  and  I  noticed  how  well  he  looked.  He 
seemed  to  have  been  dwelling  in  the  sunlight  of  prosper- 
ity. His  uniform,  as  usual,  was  fine  and  neat,  and  his 
expression  was  at  first  that  of  satisfaction  and  triumph, 
though  it  became  gloomy  as  he  looked  at  me. 
308 


SENTENCED.  309 

"I  am  sorry  that  you  came,  Cousin  Philip,"  he  said 
again. 

"  I  observe  that  you  do  not  seem  glad  to  see  me,"  I 
replied,  and  again  I  felt  that  I  had  spoken  flippantly. 

"  There  has  been  bad  feeling  between  us,  though  I 
was  willing  to  have  it  otherwise,"  he  said,  "  and  I  would 
rather  this  duty  had  fallen  to  some  one  else." 

What  he  said  seemed  ambiguous  and  I  passed  it  over, 
but  I  added,  to  see  what  he  would  have  to  say: 

"  Your  friends  have  a  formidable  force  out  there  at 
the  entrance  to  the  lake." 

His  face  cleared. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  it  is  quite  sufficient,  more  than 
sufficient,  for  the  purpose.  In  a  few  days,  in  a  week  or 
two  at  most,  New  Orleans  and  all  this  Southwestern  coun- 
try will  be  ours.  To  what  do  your  few  thousands  of  raw 
militia  amount? — to  nothing.'  Was  I  not  at  Washington? 
Did  I  not  see  them  run  away  there?  They  will  do  the 
same  here!  And  even  if  they  do  not,  what  does  it  matter 
to  the  gathered  might  of  Britain!  Wellington's  best 
troops,  the  soldiers  who  beat  Napoleon's  in  Spain  and 
France  and  marched  into  Paris,  are  here,  and  his  best 
generals  are  coming  too.  Do  you  think  that  the  men 
who  overcame  odds  at  Talavera  and  Salamanca  and 
Vitoria  and  Toulouse  are  going  to  pause  for  your  Louisi- 
anians  and  Kentuckians  and  Tennesseeans,  half-starved 
backwoodsmen  in  their  hunting  shirts?  " 

His  eyes  were  flashing,  and  I  could  see  the  blood  leap- 
ing in  his  face.  These  were  the  things  that  were  dear 
to  his  heart,  the  triumphs  in  which  he  gloried. 

"  Look  at  Washington,"  he  continued.  "  Your  army 
fled  there,  and  it  would  have  been  the  same  if  it  had  not 
fled.  And  do  not  forget  that  I  had  my  share  of  the  tri- 
umph, nor  was  it  a  small  share.  It  was  I  who  led  the 
army  to  Washington.  It  was  I  who  made  the  swift  march 
upon  it  possible,  for  I  knew  the  country.  I  had  studied 
and  mapped  it,  and  I  led  the  army  on.  I  urged  the 


310  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

march  upon  our  commanders,  and  then,  when  we  reached 
your  Capitol,  I  was  one  of  the  first  to  set  the  torch  to  it. 
I  have  paid  any  debts  that  I  may  have  owed  in  Washing- 
ton for  insults.  But  we  have  not  finished  yet.  Britain 
has  conquered  Bonaparte,  and  now  that  all  her  fleets  and 
armies  are  free  she  will  smash  up  your  league  of  petty 
republics  and  make  them  her  colonies  and  dependencies 
again,  as  they  should  never  have  ceased  to  be." 

"  Rather  a  large  undertaking,"  I  said. 

"  Not  too  large." 

"  You  seem  to  forget  that  you  are  an  American  your- 
self." 

"  Never  an  American,"  he  replied  with  energy.  "  I 
was  born  in  this  country  when  it  was  English;  English  I 
am,  and  English  I  will  remain.  Have  I  not  paid  the 
price?  Have  I  not  clung  to  my  loyalty  to  my  king 
through  everything?  I  was  one  of  those  Loyalist  exiles 
whom  they  expelled  from  New  York  at  the  close  of  the 
war  and  whose  property  they  confiscated.  The  mob  fol- 
lowed us  as  we  went  to  the  ships  and  hooted  at  us  and 
sang  their  traitorous  Yankee  songs  and  stoned  us.  Those 
were  things  to  remember,  when  all  we  had  was  taken 
from  us  and  we  were  forced  to  go  into  the  Canada  wilder- 
ness and  snows  and  build  new  homes  there." 

I  could  see  that  he  was  growing  excited  at  the  memory 
of  old  wrongs  cherished  through  all  these  years.  I  had 
never  before  seen  him  show  so  much  feeling,  and  it 
seemed  that  all  the  passion  he  had  repressed  so  long 
was  bursting  out  at  once. 

"But  all  this  happened  before  I  was  born,"  I  pro- 
tested. 

"  That  does  not  alter  the  fact  that  it  happened,  nor 
does  it  alter  the  fact  either  that  I  am  living  to  see  time 
pay  its  debts.  The  exiles,  the  old  Loyalists,  will  come 
back  to  their  own." 

"  Never,"  I  replied;  "  neither  you  nor  I  will  ever  see 
that." 


SENTENCED.  311 

"  You  will  not,"  he  said. 

There  was  a  change  in  his  tone  and  manner,  and  that 
change,  as  well  as  his  words,  caused  me  to  look  at  him 
with  a  new  interest. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  You  are  soldier  enough  to  know  the  fate  of  taken 
spies,"  he  replied. 

His  eye  shifted  away,  and  I  saw  that  it  was  unwilling 
to  meet  mine. 

"  But  I  am  no  spy!  " 

"Why,  then,  are  you  in  disguise?" 

"Disguise?" 

"  Look  at  your  clothes." 

I  wore  an  old  suit  of  brown  homespun  which  I  had 
borrowed  from  a  Tennesseean  almost  as  large  as  myself. 
I  had  but  one  uniform,  and  as  the  ladies  of  New  Orleans 
were  handsome  I  did  not  wish  to  spoil  it  on  an  expedition 
through  the  mud  like  this. 

"  Yes,  your  clothes!  "  he  repeated.  "  Why  were  you 
not  in  uniform?  Why  have  you  dressed  in  such  a  man- 
ner? Why  have  you  come  to  such  a  place  if  not  as  a  spy? 
You  have  been  taken  within  our  lines." 

I  was  a  scout,  not  a  spy,  and  had  not  thought  of  play- 
ing such  a  part. 

"  I  did  not  know  I  was  within  your  lines,"  I  replied, 
"and  if  lack  of  uniform  is  proof  that  I  am  a  spy,  then 
half  of  our  army  are  spies." 

I  saw  his  face  harden.  He  seemed  to  have  forgotten 
all  the  regard  he  professed  once  to  have  for  me. 

"  I  said  I  was  sorry  that  this  duty  had  fallen  upon 
me,"  he  said. 

"  Surely  you  can  not  mean  such  a  thing,"  I  exclaimed, 
more  in  amazement  than  alarm  just  then. 

"  In  the  rebellion  your  Washington  did  not  spare 
Andre  because  he  was  young  and  many  people  liked 
him." 

"  But  at  least  you  will  give  me  a  trial  and  hear  what 


312  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

I  have  to  say,"  I  protested.  "  You  professed  once  to 
like  me." 

"  That  was  in  a  different  time,  and  the  laws  of  war 
are  plain,"  he  said.  "  You  were  caught  in  citizen's  dress 
within  our  lines." 

Now  I  understood  what  the  sergeant  had  meant  when 
he  spoke  of  my  frankness,  but  we  Western  men  were  so 
much  accustomed  to  wearing  our  every-day  dress  on  cam- 
paigns that  I  had  thought  nothing  of  a  matter  which 
now  seemed  so  serious. 

"  It  is  best  to  tell  you  the  truth  and  let  you  prepare 
yourself,"  he  said  abruptly.  "  You  will  be  shot  at  ten 
o'clock  in  the  morning.  That  is  better  than  hanging. 
This  room  will  be  your  prison  to-night.  I  give  you  my 
own  quarters.  You  can  not  escape,  for  a  dozen  soldiers 
will  be  on  guard  outside." 

He  walked  out  quickly  and  slammed  the  door  behind 
him,  leaving  me  overwhelmed  by  confused  thoughts  and 
yet  scarce  realizing  my  position.  I  could  not  believe  that 
my  career,  all  my  hopes  and  ambitions  were  about  to 
come  to  a  sudden  end  in  a  black  swamp  before  a  file  of 
soldiers,  and  that  too,  if  not  at  the  hand,  at  the  order  of 
my  own  kinsman.  The  thing  was  too  monstrous.  I 
could  not  believe  that  he  had  changed  so  much,  for  he 
seemed  sincere  once  when  he  offered  me  what  he  called  a 
future. 

Presently  I  heard  a  steady  tramp,  tramp  on  the  strip 
of  hard  earth  before  the  door.  I  looked  through  a  crack 
and  saw  a  soldier,  musket  on  shoulder,  walking  back  and 
forth;  I  went  to  the  window,  another  walked  there,  and 
I  doubted  not  that  there  were  more,  as  the  major  had 
said.  I  had  no  arms,  as  my  captors  had  taken  them 
from  me  when  they  seized  me,  and  I  could  see  no  chance 
of  escape. 

I  sat  down  on  the  box  and  remained  motionless  a  long 
time.  I  confess  that  I  was  dazed  by  the  blow  delivered 
so  suddenly  and  with  such  little  mercy.  At  first  I  had 


SENTENCED.  313 

the  feeling  that  is  in  every  one  who  is  young  and  full  of 
strength,  that  he  can  not  die,  at  least  not  for  scores  of 
years.  Death  might  strike  others,  but  it  would  pass  me 
by.  Even  now,  after  I  realized  that  the  major  was  in 
earnest,  it  was  hard  for  me  to  believe  that  the  threat 
was  real.  I  was  as  strong  as  ever,  and  life  was  as  sweet. 
Ten  o'clock  in  the  morning!  Eighteen,  twenty  hours  at 
the  most!  My  mind  could  not  take  it  in,  for  it  was  con- 
trary to  Nature  and  would  not  be  permitted.  Something 
would  interfere. 

I  had  thought  of  death  before,  but  only  of  a  death  on 
the  battlefield.  Even  that  thought  had  been  vague,  mere- 
ly one  of  the  possibilities,  not  a  probability,  to  be  reckoned 
with  and  to  prepare  for.  That,  too,  was  a  death  not  with- 
out honour;  this  to  which  I  was  doomed  was  like  the 
death  they  inflicted  on  a  criminal,  a  murderer.  I  was  no 
spy.  All  my  feelings  revolted  at  the  trade.  Yet  I  was 
not  only  to  be  put  to  death  as  a  spy,  but  my  people,  my 
best  friends,  my  commander,  perhaps  Marian,  would  think 
that  I  was  a  spy  and  died  as  such. 

I  sprang  up  from  my  stool  and  walked  about  in  an 
endeavour  to  suppress  weakness.  I  looked  through  the 
little  window,  and  again  caught  glimpses  of  red-coated 
soldiers.  One  stopped  near  the  window  and  I  could  see 
his  face.  It  was  red  and  jolly,  and  spoke  of  strong, 
healthy  life.  Yet  that  man  was  twice  as  old  as  I.  What 
right  had  he  to  live  on  while  I  had  to  die? 

I  sat  down  on  the  stool  again.  I  could  still  hear, 
through  the  thin  walls,  the  regular  tramp  of  the  sentinels. 
Tap-tap,  tap-tap  went  their  feet  on  the  earth.  Presently 
the  sound  of  their  footsteps  ceased  and  some  one  fumbled 
at  the  door.  It  was  only  a  soldier  with  food  and  drink 
for  me.  He  put  them  on  my  box,  and,  giving  me  a  sym- 
pathetic look,  went  out. 

I  turned  to  the  food  and  was  very  much  surprised  to 
find  that  I  had  a  good  appetite.  I  ate  heartily,  and  felt 
better  for  a  while,  but  not  long.  The  tread  of  the 
21 


A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

sentinels  annoyed  me.  Like  the  ticking  of  a  clock  it 
seemed  to  hasten  the  hours  away.  The  night  had  come, 
and  already  the  time  had  shortened  to  sixteen,  fifteen, 
fourteen  hours,  maybe  less.  What  was  a  little  while  like 
that?  It  would  soon  be  the  tenth  hour,  and  then  the 
eighth  and  'the  sixth  and  then  the  end.  Yet,  telling 
about  it  now  at  this  safe  distance  of  time,  I  could  not 
even  yet  believe  in  my  soul  that  I  was  going  to  die,  and  I 
suppose  that  youth,  health,  and  strength  together  gave 
me  this  anchor. 

I  heard  somebody  laughing  outside.  In  anger  I  went 
to  the  little  window  and  saw  two  soldiers  talking.  It 
was  some  joke  that  they  were  telling  to  each  other  and  en- 
joying, ignorant  or  careless  of  the  man  condemned  to 
death  who  heard.  I  wondered  at  the  heartlessness  of 
some  human  natures.  In  a  pettish  kind  of  wrath  I  took 
up  the  tin  cup  that  held  my  drinking  water  and  threw  it 
through  the  window  at  the  men.  It  struck  clanging  on 
the  ground,  and  they  went  away. 

I  felt  a  little  glow  of  triumph  at  my  victory  and  re- 
turned to  my  box,  where  I  sat  for  some  time.  I  wanted 
sleep,  and  I  believe  that  I  could  have  slept  had  it  not 
been  for  the  dreary  tread  of  the  sentinels.  Tap-tap,  tap- 
tap  it  went,  and  so  it  would  go  on  all  night  I  supposed. 

The  night  advanced  and  I  could  no  longer  see  any- 
thing outside,  but  I  could  hear  voices  and  the  clank  of 
metal  against  metal  as  the  men  handled  their  guns. 
These  were  the  old  familiar  sounds  of  my  camp  life,  and 
I  grew  incredulous  again  about  the  sudden  coming  of 
death.  I  could  not  reason  it  out. 

The  darkness  diminished  by  and  by.  A  few  beams  of 
pale  light  came  in  at  the  little  window  and  fell  on  the 
floor  in  front  of  me.  They  made  round  patches  there 
like  silver  dollars.  The  moon  was  rising  and  the  light 
increased.  I  looked  out  again  and  could  see  men  now 
as  well  as  hear  them,  but  I  did  not  know  what  they  were 
about. 


SENTENCED.  315 

I  tried  at  last  to  go  to  sleep,  and  lay  down  on  the  floor 
and  shut  my  eyes.  But  that  only  made  the  tread  of  the 
sentinels  more  distinct.  I  began  to  count  in  order  to 
soothe  my  brain  and  put  it  into  a  state  that  would  invite 
sleep.  I  laughed,  still  in  an  unconvinced  way,  that  on 
the  last  night  of  my  life  I  should  resort  to  this  old  child- 
ish trick  to  banish  wakefulness.  One,  two,  three,  four 
I  counted  and  up  to  a  hundred;  then  back  one,  two, 
three,  four  again.  One,  two,  three,  four  rang  the  foot- 
steps of  the  nearest  sentinel  as  I  counted.  Unconsciously 
I  began  to  count  the  footsteps  which  were  to  be  the  meas- 
ure of  my  life.  Up  to  one  hundred  I  went,  but  I  did 
not  turn  and  go  back  again.  I  went  on  up,  reached  two 
hundred,  and  went  on,  calling  each  figure  as  the  sentinel's 
foot  struck  the  earth. 

Still  counting,  my  eyelids  drooped  and  the  room  grew 
darker.  The  hard  floor  seemed  softer  and  the  moonbeams 
multiplied  upon  it.  The  tread  of  the  sentinels  became 
less  distinct.  Perhaps,  after  all,  they  were  going  to  stop. 
I  was  too  languid  to  wonder  about  it  long.  I  tried  to 
count  on,  but  I  lost  the  number.  Then  I  heard  the  tread 
no  more,  and,  ceasing  to  hear,  I  went  to  sleep,  with  the 
moonbeams  falling  upon  me. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

THE   NIGHT   BATTLE. 

IT  was  far  in  the  night  when  I  was  awakened  by  a  tall 
man  in  uniform,  who  gave  me  a  rough  shake. 

"  Get  up,  Philip,"  said  Major  Northcote,  who  held  a 
lantern  in  his  hand. 

I  rose  and  in  a  moment  was  wide-awake,  as  a  man  is 
likely  to  be  at  slight  provocation  on  a  night  that  he  fears 
is  going  to  be  his  last.  Major  Northcote  carried  a  lan- 
tern, the  light  of  which  fell  upon  his  face,  and  I  could 
see  that  he  was  making  an  effort  to  preserve  his  habitual 
look  of  pride  and  indifference. 

"  I  am  up;  what  do  you  wish?  " 

"  The  door  is  open,  and  the  sentinels  are  away.    Go  !  " 

"  Then  you  don't  mean  to  have  me  shot  in  the  morn- 
ing?" 

"No;  I  ought  to  do  it,  and  you  deserve  it,  but  I've 
changed  my  mind.  You  can  put  down  that  change  to 
what  you  please;  and  whatever  you  please  it  will  probably 
be  wrong.  Perhaps  I  did  not  intend  it  in  the  first  place; 
the  old  Romans  used  to  put  even  their  own  sons  to  death 
when  they  deserved  it,  but  we  are  not  the  old  Romans; 
perhaps  it  was  my  old  liking  for  you;  perhaps  my  dead 
cousin,  your  mother,  who  was  my  childhood's  pla)rmate, 
interfered;  perhaps  it  is  because  you  are  not  worth  the 
trouble,  or  perhaps  a  number  of  things.  As  I  said,  you 
can  put  it  down  to  any  cause  or  whim  you  choose." 

I  judged  by  his  face  that  he  had  been  having  some  bad 
hours,  but  certainly  I  was  not  the  one  to  complain  on 
316 


THE  NIGHT  BATTLE.  317 

that  account.  There  was,  too,  a  certain  expression  in 
his  eyes  as  if  he  were  ashamed  of  himself  for  some  weak- 
ness real  or  fancied.  I  caught,  purposely  or  not,  a  little 
of  his  own  cynical  tone  and  manner. 

"  I  am  obliged  to  you,  Cousin  Gilbert,  for  more  than  I 
expected,"  I  said. 

"  You  had  better  go  before  I  change  my  mind  and  take 
the  obligation  off  you." 

That  in  truth  would  be  a  calamity,  and  I  started  to- 
ward the  door. 

"Shall  I  have  any  trouble  with  the  sentinels?"  I 
asked. 

"  No,  they  are  not  there  now." 

I  stopped  once  at  the  door  and  told  him  I  would  not 
forget  it,  but  he  turned  away  impatiently.  Then  I 
stepped  outside  into  darkness  and  freedom.  How  glorious 
the  cool  night  air!  What  a  change  from  eight  or  ten 
hours  of  life  to  fifty  or  sixty  years  maybe!  What  a  mag- 
nificent forest  out  there!  Even  the  swamp  was  beautiful. 
I  laughed  from  the  mere  delight  of  living,  and  then 
crossed  the  clearing,  which,  as  my  kinsman  had  said 
truly,  contained  no  sentinels,  and  entered  the  forest. 

Though  the  men  composing  my  little  detachment  had 
known  the  country  through  which  we  came,  and  I  had 
been  a  stranger,  I  remembered  enough  of  the  general  di- 
rection to  reach  New  Orleans  again  after  two  days  of 
hard  travelling,  and  that  Southern  city,  with  its  gay  pop- 
ulation, looked  very  welcome  to  me  after  my  encounter 
with  death  in  a  black  swamp.  Despite  the  landing  of  the 
enemy  in  Louisiana  and  the  imminence  of  battle,  the  city 
was  gay  in  appearance  and  manner,  for  winter  is  the  fine 
season  there,  and  the  presence  of  soldiers,  especially  young 
officers,  in  a  town  is  not  always  depressing.  As  I  has- 
tened on  I  saw  the  handsome  black-eyed  women  in  the 
balconies  with  coloured  Madras  kerchiefs  tied  over  their 
heads,  while  in  the  streets  lounged  the  men,  dandies  after 
the  Parisian  custom,  their  necks  inclosed  in  high  collars 


318  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

with  great  fluffy  cravats  rising  up  and  covering  their 
chins,  the  long  sleeves  of  their  coats  coming  down  over 
their  hands  and  hiding  them,  the  coats  fine  and  brightly 
coloured,  and  their  legs  sunk  in  great  boots  with  high 
flaps.  Dandies  in  truth  they  looked,  and  dandies  they 
were  in  some  respects,  but  they  were  honest  and  brave 
men  too,  and  true  as  steel  they  were  to  us  in  face  of  all 
allurements,  for  the  British  issued  proclamation  after 
proclamation  to  them — we  could  pick  up  their  printed 
circulars  anywhere — saying  they  came  not  to  war  against 
the  Louisianians,  who  would  be  protected  in  their  homes 
and  property,  only  against  the  Americans;  but  the  great 
promises  availed  nothing,  the  Louisianians  remained 
faithful  to  us,  and  soon  we  were  to  have  the  final  proof. 

Dirty  and  tired  as  I  was,  I  intended  to  go  to  General 
Jackson's  headquarters  on  Eoyal  Street  before  seeking 
rest,  food,  or  cleanliness,  for  I  remembered  that  I  had  seen 
bargeload  after  bargeload  of  British  troops  passing  from 
their  fleet  down  Lake  Borgne,  and  I  believed  that  some 
formidable  blow  was  menaced.  My  men  continuing  their 
scout,  perhaps  had  not  yet  arrived  in  New  Orleans,  and  I 
might  be  the  first  to  bring  the  news  of  immediate  danger. 
So  I  hastened  through  the  streets,  crossing  the  deep  and 
miry  gutters  on  narrow  planks  and  sometimes  holding  my 
nose  as  I  passed,  until  I  came  in  sight  of  the  house  in 
which  General  Jackson  lived.  Several  aides  were  at  the 
doors,  and  it  was  about  half  past  one  o'clock  of  a  cool 
December  afternoon,  the  city  looking  luminous  in  the 
crisp  winter  sunshine. 

I  knew  one  of  the  aides,  and  I  increased  my  pace,  but 
before  I  had  taken  many  steps  I  slackened  it  again,  for 
behind  me  came  the  thunder  of  horses'  hoofs  approaching 
swiftly.  There  were  other  people  in  the  street,  some  saun- 
tering along  merely  for  air  and  exercise,  but  all  of  us 
alike  turned  to  see  who  came  so  fast.  There  were  three 
men  on  horseback,  Creoles  all,  and  one  of  them  I  knew,  a 
young  de  Villere,  a  member  of  an  old  French  family  who 


THE  NIGHT  BATTLE.  319 

owned  much  land  about  New  Orleans.  The  men  were 
whipping  their  horses  and  their  faces  showed  excitement. 
Villere  was  as  muddy  as  I  with  the  black  mud  of  the 
swamps,  but  they  galloped  straight  towards  the  general's 
headquarters,  where  Villere  sprang  at  once  from  his  horse. 
I  knew  that  these  men  came  so  fast  on  no  trifling  errand, 
and  I  ran  to  the  door. 

"  The  general!     The  general  at  once!  "  said  Villere. 

"  He  is  busy,"  said  the  adjutant. 

"  Not  too  busy  to  hear  that  the  British  army  is  before 
the  city,  advancing  in  full  strength,"  replied  Villere. 

The  adjutant  looked  incredulous  at  first,  but  Villere's 
face  was  enough  to  drive  away  doubts. 

"  Come! "  he  said,  and  he  hurried  the  three  men  and 
me  into  the  house.  I  think  he  took  me  for  one  of  their 
party;  my  appearance  was  sufficient.  I  had  no  doubt 
that  the  men  whom  I  had  seen  in  the  boats  formed  the 
army  of  which  Villere  and  his  comrades  had  come  to 
tell. 

General  Jackson  was  at  a  table  studying  reports.  He 
looked  shabbier  and  older  and  feebler  than  ever,  and  his 
face  spoke  plainly  of  illness. 

Villere  told  the  story  quickly,  and  the  general  listened 
without  any  trace  of  excitement.  Villere  and  his  brothers 
had  been  sitting  on  the  piazza  of  their  house  beside  an 
orange  grove,  only  a  few  miles  from  the  city,  when  Eng- 
lish soldiers  came  from  among  the  orange  trees  and  sur- 
rounded them.  They  were  sent  to  their  rooms  under 
guard,  but  Villere  suddenly  ran  past  the  line  of  sentinels, 
jumped  through  a  window,  dashed  across  the  yard, 
leaped  the  fence  at  one  bound,  with  the  musket  balls 
showering  around  him,  and  darted  across  an  open  field 
toward  a  forest,  still  under  fire.  He  escaped  into  a  swamp 
and  hid  in  the  thick  foliage  of  a  cypress  tree  while  his  pur- 
suers lumbered  by.  Then  he  descended,  found  a  horse 
and  two  comrades,  and  galloped  to  New  Orleans  with  the 
news  that  the  British  were  only  six  miles  away,  when 


320  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

everybody  supposed  they  were  a  hundred.  Who  could 
gay  now  that  the  Creoles  were  not  faithful  to  us! 

We  had  been  caught  napping,  but  again  there  was 
none  of  that  disorder,  none  of  that  alarm  so  manifest  at 
Washington,  for  we  had  a  different  general  now.  He 
poured  out  some  wine  in  decanters  and  asked  each  of  us 
to  take  a  glass  while  he  sipped  a  little  himself.  Then  he 
said: 

"  Gentlemen,  the  British  are  below;  we  must  fight 
them  to-night." 

There  was  to  be  no  waiting  for  the  enemy  here.  We 
would  seek  him.  I  left  the  building  hastily  to  join 
my  regiment,  for  I  was  attached  to  the  Tennesseeans. 
The  streets  already  were  filling  with  excited  people,  for 
the  news  seemed  to  spread  itself.  The  great  bell  of  the 
cathedral  began  to  boom,  not  a  melody,  but  swift  heavy 
strokes,  like  the  peal  of  cannon,  ringing  far  over  the  city, 
which  said  plainly:  "  Arm!  the  enemy  is  near!  " 

The  women  disappeared  from  the  balconies,  the  chil- 
dren left  the  streets,  aides  with  messages  and  orders  gal- 
loped away  from  the  general's  headquarters,  the  drum- 
mers were  beating  the  long  roll,  and  the  great  bell  of  the 
cathedral  boomed  incessantly.  The  soldiers  began  to 
pour  into  the  Place  d'Armes,  and  so  good  was  the  dis- 
cipline, so  severe  the  training  of  the  iron  general,  that  in 
twenty  minutes  from  the  arrival  of  Villere  the  regulars 
were  in  line,  every  gun  and  ammunition  pouch  in  place, 
and  after  them  came  quickly  the  Creoles,  the  Tennessee- 
ans, the  free  negroes,  the  San  Domingan  refugees,  and  a 
handful  of  French  exiles,  some  of  them  old  soldiers  of 
Napoleon,  a  little  army  of  many  races  and  colours,  but 
animated  throughout  and  fused  into  a  solid  mass  by  the 
fierce  will  and  courage  of  the  man  who  commanded.  I 
obtained  a  rifle  from  somebody  and  took  my  place  with 
Mercer  and  Courtenay.  Thirty  minutes  after  the  alarm 
we  were  on  the  march,  swift  but  not  hurried-,  in  perfect 
order,  yet  but  two  thousand  strong.  The  fourteen-gun 


THE  NIGHT  BATTLE.  321 

schooner  Carolina  had  cut  loose  from  her  wharf  and  was 
dropping  down  the  river  in  a  course  parallel  to  ours. 

We  marched  steadily,  about  six  miles,  I  should  think, 
down  the  river,  and  then,  by  an  old  canal,  we  halted. 
My  place  was  at  the  edge  of  a  cypress  swamp,  half  hidden 
by  tropic  vegetation,  and  I  could  see  nothing  to  tell  me 
what  was  going  on,  for  none  near  me  knew;  but,  however 
long  our  waiting  might  be,  I  believed  that  it  would  end  in 
a  battle.  I  had  acquired  already  Mercer's  and  Courtenay's 
confidence  that  Jackson  was  a  general  who  would  always 
fight. 

"  What  do  you  see,  Felix?  "  I  asked  of  Courtenay,  who 
stood  ten  feet  from  me. 

"  The  cypress  swamp,  the  sky,  you,  and  a  few  sol- 
diers," he  replied. 

The  twilight  deepened  fast  and  turned  to  darkness, 
for  it  was  the  shortest  day  of  the  year  but  two.  Yet  we 
waited  and  in  the  dark,  some  of  us  knee  deep  in  the  black 
mire  of  the  swamp.  The  night  was  gloomy  and  chilly, 
and  the  clouds  of  fog  rolling  up  from  the  river  mingled 
with  the  air  and  made  it  heavy,  damp,  and  raw.  The 
wet  cold  crept  into  the  marrow  and  we  shivered.  The 
sombre  clouds  stalked  in  battalions  across  the  dusky  sky. 
Only  a  few  stars  twinkled,  and  those  feebly.  A  little  dis- 
tance away  the  figures  of  my  comrades  became  dim  and 
shadowy,  and  farther  on  they  were  invisible.  The  heavy 
breathing  of  the  army  rose  and  fell  at  regular  intervals, 
and  there  came  at  times  the  swish  of  impatient  feet  in 
the  mud. 

A  wall  of  blackness  rose  in  front  of  us.  Two  or  three 
points  of  light  twinkled  in  it,  disappeared,  reappeared 
here  and  there,  and  then  were  gone  again.  We  could  hear 
nothing  but  ourselves,  the  flowing  of  the  river,  and  the 
rustling  of  a  fitful  wind.  The  banks  of  fog  continued 
to  roll  up  from  the  river,  and  the  night  grew  colder, 
damper,  and  heavier. 

It  is  against  the  principles  of  war  to  fight  on  a  dark 


322  A  HERALD  OP  THE  WEST. 

night,  but  it  was  not  Andrew  Jackson's  way  to  pay  much 
heed  to  the  authorities,  a  fact  that  we  had  begun  to  learn. 
So  we  trusted  him,  and  were  not  concerned  about  the 
future.  Standing  there  in  the  mud,  the  dark,  and  the 
cold,  and  not  knowing  what  was  before  us  nor  what  we 
were  to  do,  we  carried  fewer  troubles  than  at  Bladensburg 
in  the  full  blaze  of  noonday.  I  drew  my  sword  from  its 
scabbard — I  was  an  officer  now — and  held  it  ready,  for 
I  knew  that  sooner  or  later  we  would  have  work  to  do  in 
that  wall  of  blackness  in  front  of  us. 

The  sound  of  a  rifle  shot  came  presently  from  the 
left,  then  another,  and  then  a  dozen,  but  they  ceased  in 
a  moment,  and  we  heard  no  more,  nothing  to  tell  us  who 
fired  and  who  was  hurt.  The  army  breathed  a  little 
harder,  but  the  waiting  began  again,  and  we  could  hear 
the  rustle  of  the  wind  through  the  foliage,  the  soft  flow- 
ing of  the  river,  and  the  impatient  shuffling  of  the  men's 
feet,  and  nothing  else.  Courtenay  stepped  upon  a  cy- 
press log. 

"  What  do  you  see,  Felix?  "  I  asked  again. 

"  Nothing  new,  but  the  increasing  darkness,"  he  re- 
plied. 

A  stern  old  man  passed  along  our  line,  and  every 
figure  straightened,  but  there  was  no  other  movement. 
We  remained  fixed,  growing  into  the  earth  like  saplings, 
Courtenay  said.  Twice  again  we  heard  distant  rifle  shots, 
and  knew  the  skirmishers  were  doing  a  little  work,  but 
we  knew  no  more.  Some  of  the  men  had  brought  food 
and  drink,  and  they  shared  it  with  each  other;  I  took 
a  bite,  for  at  such  times  one  wants  all  his  strength. 
Lights  began  to  flare  in  the  darkness  ahead  of  us,  and  the 
whisper  was  passed  that  they  were  the  camp  fires  of  the 
British. 

"  We  are  going  to  stir  'em  up  a  little,  just  to  show 
'em  this  is  not  Washington,"  said  Courtenay,  "  and  when 
we've  warned  'em  sufficiently  we'll  draw  off." 

But  the  "  stirring  up  "  did  not  seem  to  hurry  itself, 


THE  NIGHT  BATTLE.  323 

and  in  order  to  keep  my  mind  busy  I  began  to  count  the 
hostile  watch  fires  gleaming  through  the  night — one,  two, 
three,  four,  five,  six — but  soon  they  became  too  numerous, 
and  some  of  them  were  blurred  together.  I  gave  it  up, 
took  out  my  watch,  and,  by  holding  it  close  to  my  face, 
was  barely  able  to  see  the  time — half  past  seven. 

"  Boom! " 

A  cannon  shot,  so  close  by  that  it  made  me  jump, 
rang  and  echoed  through  the  night,  a  broad  flash  of  light 
shooting  out  at  the  same  instant  and  quivering  on  our 
faces.  It  came  from  my  right,  and  I  knew  in  an  instant 
what  it  was,  that  the  Carolina  was  beside  us  in  the  river 
and  had  opened  fire  on  the  enemy's  position,  shown  by  his 
watch  fires. 

A  cannon  flashed  again,  and  the  report  was  doubled 
by  the  silence  of  the  night.  By  the  vivid  blaze  I  could 
see  the  schooner  in  the  river,  the  black  figures  of  men  on 
her  deck,  and  the  muddy  Mississippi  gleaming  for  an  in- 
stant like  gold  in  the  cannon  flare.  I  moved  a  little 
nearer  that  I  might  see  better,  and  then  the  whole  ship 
seemed  to  break  into  flames  as  the  fire  of  gun  followed 
gun,  while  her  spare  men  aided  with  a  steady  discharge 
of  rifles.  The  blaze  never  ceased  now,  and  the  schooner, 
with  the  men  working  at  the  guns,  and  the  sharpshooters, 
rifle  at  shoulder,  were  always  visible  to  us. 

From  the  British  camp  came  the  answering  fire,  a 
mingled  discharge  of  cannon,  Congreve  rockets,  and  mus- 
kets, all  aimed  at  the  little  ship,  and  the  air  was  filled 
with  the  red  and  blue  fire  of  the  rockets  and  the  whizzing 
of  missiles.  We  expected  then  the  word  to  advance,  but 
it  did  not  come.  I  saw  again,  by  the  light  of  the  cannon- 
ade, our  stern  old  general  walking  up  and  down  the  line, 
but  he  did  not  say  a  word.  So  we  looked  and  listened, 
and  in  distant  New  Orleans  a  great  crowd  of  old  men, 
women,  and  children,  gathered  in  the  square  before  the 
Statehouse,  were  listening  as  we  listened,  though  they 
could  not  know  what  we  knew,  and  could  only  guess  in 


324  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

their  suspense.  They  had  heard  the  first  shot  and  seen 
the  far  flash  of  the  powder,  and  there  they  stood,  an  ever- 
increasing  crowd,  filled  with  dread. 

We  shuffled  about  in  our  impatience.  It  was  a  hard 
thing  to  remain  motionless  and  behold  that  flashing  tem- 
pest, two  streams  of  fire  which  met  halfway  and  blended 
and  passed  almost  in  front  of  our  faces,  though  we  were 
out  of  its  course  and  were  yet  in  the  dark.  The  shouting 
of  men  rose  and  mingled  with  the  crash  and  rattle  of  the 
cannon  and  rifles,  the  rockets  whizzed  and  hissed,  and  the 
air  was  full  of  flame.  The  ship  in  the  river  was  a  huge 
core  of  light,  for  her  crew  loaded  and  fired  her  guns  so 
fast  that  their  number  seemed  to  double  or  triple.  The 
rising  fog  from  the  river  and  the  smoke  of  the  cannonade 
added  to  the  night,  and  made  it  pitchy  dark. 

But  through  this  obscurity  the  fire  of  the  schooner 
and  the  British  army  cut  a  road,  the  rival  flames  meeting 
and  blending  halfway.  We  shuffled  about,  impatient  at 
mere  looking  on,  and  the  army  began  to  talk,  but  we  kept 
our  lines  and  watched  the  combat,  which  was  waxing 
in  strength  and  volume. 

I  lost  my  anxiety  for  a  while  in  the  grandeur  of  the 
sight.  The  men  on  the  boat  were  no  longer  our  friends 
— human  beings — but  machines  working  those  other 
machines,  the  guns.  I  could  see  them  by  the  light  of 
the  cannon  fire,  mere  shadows  of  men,  a  black  tracery, 
Sometimes  a  few  seconds  would  come  between  a  volley, 
and  the  boat  would  disappear  in  the  darkness,  as  if  the 
river  had  swallowed  it  up;  then  the  cannon  would  fire 
and  it  came  back  in  the  centre  of  the  blaze  of  light  as 
busy  and  terrible  as  ever,  a  live  thing  that  was  stinging 
the  British  army.  There  was  a  great  shouting  in  the 
British  ranks,  but  on  the  boat  they  fought  in  silence,  save 
the  roar  of  their  guns. 

"Forward!" 

It  was  our  general's  command,  and  with  a  sigh  of 
relief  we  left  the  mire  and  poured  into  the  road  which 


THE  NIGHT  BATTLE.  325 

ran  along  the  river  bank,  right  under  the  fire  of  our  own 
schooner,  which  flamed  and  blazed  as  it  passed  over  our 
heads. 

On  we  went,  with  only  the  light  of  the  cannonade  to 
guide  us.  Suddenly,  before  us,  I  saw  the  dim  outline 
of  the  fence  and  something  dark  in  front  of  it  which 
looked  like  a  ditch.  We  checked  ourselves  with  involun- 
tary motion,  and  at  the  same  instant  a  blinding  stream  of 
light  flamed  in  our  faces,  followed  by  the  rattle  of  mus- 
kets. Men  fell  dead  in  our  ranks  and  others  cried  aloud 
in  the  sudden  pain  of  a  wound.  By  the  flash  of  the 
musketry  I  could  see  the  red  coats  of  the  English  beyond 
the  ditch  and  fence.  We  felt  that  shiver  and  tremble 
which  comes  of  a  night  surprise,  and  paused  a  moment  be- 
fore the  shock  of  the  volley.  Then  one  of  our  men,  a 
colonel,  ran  forward  and  shouted  to  the  enemy: 

"  Come  out  on  the  open  ground  and  fight  like  men! " 

Whether  any  one  replied  I  know  not,  for  we  began  to 
fire  in  our  turn,  and  we  poured  in  a  discharge  so  fast  and 
hot  that  by  its  light  we  saw  the  English  leave  their  post 
and  run.  Then  we  scrambled  over  the  ditch  and  fence 
into  their  place  and  found  ourselves  attacked  by  a  strong 
force  of  the  enemy,  coming  to  the  relief  of  their  beaten 
comrades.  The  blackness  in  front  of  us  seemed  to  burst 
into  a  continuous  blaze  as  hundreds  of  muskets  were  fired 
on  us  at  close  range,  and  the  deadly  showers  of  lead  beat 
down  our  lines.  A  terrible  tumult  arose.  The  death 
cries,  the  moans  of  the  wounded,  mingled  with  the  com- 
mands of  our  officers  and  confused  us  all.  The  mus- 
kets continued  to  flash  in  our  faces  and  behind  us,  before 
us  and  over  us  roared  the  cannonade  of  the  ship  and  the 
British  camp.  We  were  enveloped  in  the  smoke  of  our 
fire  and  that  of  our  enemies. 

"  Confound  such  night  fighting! "  shouted  Mercer  in 
my  ear.  "  The  military  treatises  ought  not  to  allow  it. 
I  may  get  killed  here  in  the  dark  and  never  know  it." 

The  battle  grew  hotter  and  our  lines  thinner,  for  our 


326  A  HERALD  OF  THE   WEST. 

men  were  falling,  but  we  held  our  ground.  The  Ten- 
nesseeans  are  a  fighting  stock,  and  personal  courage  and 
tenacity,  not  any  ordered  plan,  kept  them  there,  for  the 
rapid  fire  of  our  enemies,  the  shots  which  seemed  to  come 
from  every  point  of  the  compass,  the  incessant  crackling 
of  the  rifles  and  muskets,  the  roar  of  the  cannon  battle 
which  was  going  on  between  the  ship  and  the  British,  the 
blackness  of  the  night  broken  in  irregular  streaks  by  the 
blaze  of  the  firing,  made  a  melee  so  confused  and  terrible 
that  one  knew  nothing  but  to  stand  where  he  was  and 
shoot  straight  before  him  at  what  he  saw  or  did  not  see. 

My  nerves  began  to  quiver.  I  could  not  help  it,  with 
the  roaring  and  crackling  all  around  me,  the  alternate 
blaze  of  light  and  the  returning  darkness,  the  cries  and 
shouts  of  which  I  understood  nothing,  the  thick  drifting 
smoke  which  stung  our  eyes  and  nostrils,  and  the  fall  of 
some  dead  man  against  me.  Above  it  all  thundered  the 
unceasing  cannonade,  and  looking  once  at  the  river  I  saw 
that  the  ship  was  a  tower  of  light  as  if  she  were  on  fire, 
though  I  knew  that  it  was  not  that,  but  the  unbroken 
flash  of  her  guns. 

Some  one  raised  a  cry  that  the  cannon  were  coming; 
the  fence  was  dashed  down  and  over  it  the  gunners  rushed 
with  two  little  field  pieces  which  they  brought  up  with  a 
jerk  and  turned  on  the  column  before  us.  Glorious  little 
cannon  they  were!  I  don't  know  who  made  them,  and  I 
don't  know  where  they  are  now,  but  they  were  thrice  wel- 
come comrades  in  our  little  band  that  night,  for  when 
they  began  to  talk  with  the  loud  emphatic  boom!  boom! 
that  a  cannon  uses  when  it  is  angry,  the  hostile  column  in 
front  of  us  began  to  melt  away,  their  line  of  fire  retreated 
and  sank,  and  in  the  alternate  light  and  darkness  we 
told  each  other  how  brave  we  were,  and  asked  who 
were  dead,  questions  soon  interrupted  by  the  tramp  of 
many  men  and  horses  and  the  rolling  of  cannon.  A 
broad  red  flare,  marking  the  advance  of  the  red-coated 
English,  appeared  through  the  darkness. 


THE  NIGHT  BATTLE.  327 

"  The  whole  English  army's  on  us! "  shouted  some 
one,  and  it  looked  as  if  the  truth  had  been  spoken,  for 
they  opened  such  a  heavy  fire  that  we  were  thrown  into 
disorder  again  and  our  ranks  were  riddled.  The  gunners 
were  shot  at  the  guns,  and  the  long  British  line,  spread- 
ing around  our  Hanks,  beat  upon  us  from  three  sides. 
But  the  men,  though  confused  and  unable  to  hear  the 
orders  in  the  tumult,  again  showed  their  courage  and 
constancy  and  stood  firm  upon  the  ground  which  they 
had  won.  The  horses  attached  to  our  cannon  were 
wounded,  and  screaming  aloud  in  fright  and  pain  with 
a  scream  far  wilder  and  more  terrible  than  that  of  man, 
reared  and  plunged  about  in  the  darkness,  tearing  up  the 
soft  earth  with  their  feet.  They  overturned  one  of  the 
cannon  and  it  rolled  down  into  the  ditch,  sinking  deep  in 
the  mud.  The  confusion  increased,  and  we  knew  nothing 
amid  the  shouting.  A  heavy  column  of  the  enemy 
charged  down  on  our  flank  straight  toward  the  remaining 
cannon,  bent  upon  capturing  it.  Men  knew  not  what  to 
do,  and  each  began  to  ask  his  neighbour — evidence  of  a 
coming  panic.  Suddenly  the  general  himself  dashed 
among  us,  his  seamed  brown  face  showing  in  the  battle 
flare,  while  he  shouted  in  a  voice  like  the  roar  of  a 
tempest: 

"  Save  the  guns!  Save  the  guns,  my  boys!  " 
The  men  at  the  guns  were  marines,  trained  to  fight, 
and  they  did  not  flinch.  They  leaped  down  in  the  ditch, 
and  with  brute  strength  dragged  out  the  cannon  and 
turned  it  again  on  the  enemy,  its  comrade  assisting. 
All  of  us  rallied  around  the  general,  while  re-enforce- 
ments came  down  the  road,  rushing  to  our  help;  greater 
re-enforcements  arrived  for  the  enemy,  though  we  did  not 
know  it  then;  off  from  the  left  came  the  rolling  crash 
of  another  battle,  as  Coffee  and  his  Indian  fighters- 
Dirty  Shirts  we  called  them  because  they  tramped  so  far 
to  New  Orleans  through  the  mud — had  opened  fire  there, 
and  the  strong  British  force  was  replying.  On  the  horizon 


328  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

we  could  see  the  flash  of  their  guns,  and  the  tumult 
swelled  and  rolled  steadily  to  our  ears.  Encouraged,  we 
rushed  forward  upon  the  enemy,  and  they  came  to  meet 
us.  Along  a  long  vague  line,  winding  in  the  darkness 
through  wood  and  swamp  and  over  canal,  the  two  armies 
met  and  mingled  in  a  battle  that  was  without  form  or 
order,  man  against  man,  weapon  against  weapon,  the  Brit- 
ish with  their  bayonets,  we  with  clubbed  rifles,  and  many 
of  the  Tennesseeans  with  their  long  hunting  knives.  All 
the  wild  beast  in  a  man  comes  out  in  such  a  battle  as  this 
in  the  darkness,  in  the  swamp,  showers  of  the  slime  kicked 
up.  by  the  trampling  feet  falling  back  upon  you,  no  orders 
but  to  fight  and  to  strike  at  the  man  in  front  of  you.  Two 
blind  armies  locked  and  writhed  in  the  mud.  Sometimes 
I  could  see  the  hot  eyes  of  an  enemy  gleaming  in  front  of 
me,  but  when  I  struck,  the  man  was  gone;  again  the  edge 
of  my  sword  would  meet  something,  but  if  I  had  slain 
I  did  not  know,  and  was  glad  of  it.  I  heard  death 
cries  around  me,  but  whether  those  of  friend  or  enemy 
no  one  knew.  Bayonet  and  knife  edge  flashed  in  the 
light  of  the  firing,  and  steel  rang  against  steel. 

Our  stubborn  line  had  met  another  stubborn  line; 
we  refused  to  give  backward,  so  did  they,  and  through  all 
the  tumult  we  could  hear  our  own  officers  shouting  at 
us,  and  theirs  to  them,  to  destroy  the  enemy. 

Thus  in  the  blur  of  the  night  and  darkness  the  battle 
raged  back  and  forth  on  the  moist  plain  of  the  delta.  I 
began  to  laugh,  why  I  knew  not,  but  I  felt  a  wild  ex- 
ultation; the  British  boast  might  be  true  that  theirs  were 
the  best  troops  in  Europe,  but  we  would  show  them,  un- 
trained and  half-armed  backwoodsmen  though  we  were, 
that  they  were  not  the  best  troops  out  of  Europe,  and 
maybe  not  so  good. 

I  stumbled  into  the  edge  of  a  cypress  swamp  and  fell 
my  full  length.  I  rose  covered  with  the  black  slime,  and 
as  I  dabbed  at  my  eyes  to  clear  them  some  one  shouted 
in  my  ear: 


THE  NIGHT  BATTLE.  329 

"  Give  it  to  the  Yankee  dogs,  comrade!  " 

A  half  dozen  British  soldiers  were  around  me,  and  I 
blessed  the  black  mud  which  had  disfigured  me  and  made 
them  think  me  one  of  them.  So  I,  too,  shouted  with 
loudness  and  vigour  to  give  it  to  the  Yankee  dogs,  and  in 
my  zeal  to  obey  my  own  command  I  rushed  away  from 
them  and  in  a  moment  was  with  my  rightful  comrades 
again. 

Along  our  own  part  of  the  line  the  firing  had  sunk 
to  an  intermittent  crackle,  for  it  was  hand  to  hand  now, 
and  we  had  no  time  to  reload  our  pieces.  I  could  hear 
the  dull  crash  of  rifle  stock  upon  human  skull  and  flesh; 
once  something  warm  and  moist  flew  in  my  face,  and  with 
a  shudder  of  repulsion  I  wiped  it  off.  The  soft  mud 
squirted  up  under  the  trampling  of  heavy  feet,  the  wound- 
ed groaned  or  cried  out,  and  the  men  who  fought  swore 
and  yelled,  but  above  all  their  voices  roared  the  steady 
thunder  of  the  cannon. 

There  was  a  sweep  in  the  wild  night  battle,  something 
that  set  the  blood  tingling,  though  it  made  one  shudder 
at  the  same  time,  that  carried  me  on  with  it.  But  that 
great  crowd  back  yonder  in  New  Orleans,  in  the  square 
before  the  Statehouse — old  men,  women,  and  children — 
could  feel  none  of  the  feeling  that  swayed  us.  Theirs 
was  the  painful  task  of  waiting,  to  stand  there  through 
the  hours  and  listen  to  the  thunder  of  the  distant  battle 
and  watch  its  blaze,  and  not  know  whether  friends  were 
losing  or  winning. 

The  battle  deepened,  and  with  it  the  confusion.  We 
made  prisoners  of  our  own  men,  and  the  British  did  the 
like  with  theirs;  in  the  darkness  friend  and  enemy  fought 
side  by  side  against  they  knew  not  whom.  The  cannon- 
eers, theirs  and  ours  alike,  fired  in  whatever  direction  the 
mouths  of  the  guns  had  been  turned  when  the  battle 
began. 

All  this  time  the  fog  from  the  river  had  been  rolling 
up  in  dense  heavy  columns,  and  now  it  was  banked  so 
22 


330  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

thickly  over  the 'plain  on  which  we  fought  that  the  flash 
of  the  guns  could  scarcely  clear  a  way  through  it.  The 
ship  suddenly  ceased  her  fire,  and  the  great  core  of  light 
that  she  had  made  on  the  river  went  out.  The  smoke 
and  fog  hung  heavier  and  heavier,  and  the  cry  ran  along 
our  line  to  cease  firing.  It  seemed  to  come  from  British 
and  American  officers  both,  and  like  two  well-proved  an- 
tagonists we  fell  apart,  each  seeking  his  own  ground  again. 
It  was  time  to  stop,  since  in  the  darkness  and  the  min- 
gling of  our  lines  friend  was  as  likely  to  fight  friend  as 
foe,  and  for  that  reason  the  ship  had  ceased  firing,  not 
knowing  now  whether  she  was  throwing  her  balls  into 
their  army  or  ours. 

We  fell  back  to  our  lines,  ignorant  how  many  among 
us  had  fallen,  but  elated  and  full  of  zeal  for  the  future, 
for  in  the  wild  battle  of  the  night  we  had  fought  three 
times  our  number  of  the  English  and  had  held  them  fast; 
they  had  not  been  able  to  gain  an  inch;  the  triumphant 
parade  into  New  Orleans,  of  which  they  had  spoken  so 
sanguinely  in  London,  was  stopped,  and  the  ready-made 
and  ticketed  new  government  aboard  their  ships  would 
have  to  wait  a  while  for  something  to  govern.  And  the 
results  were  even  greater  than  we  supposed,  for  the  Brit- 
ish, sanguine  at  first,  victories  won  before  the  battle, 
warned  by  such  a  reception,  rushed  now  to  the  other  ex- 
treme, grew  cautious,  even  timid,  magnified  our  forces 
tenfold,  saw  armies  that  did  not  exist,  earthworks  that 
had  not  been  built,  and  ditches  that  had  not  been  dug, 
all  of  which  gave  precious  time  to  us,  as  the  Kentuckians 
long  hoped  for,  almost  despaired  of,  would  soon  be  at 
hand  to  swell  our  numbers. 

I  found  Mercer  and  Courtenay,  unwounded  both,  and 
we  threw  ourselves  upon  the  muddy  ground  and  sought 
sleep.  The  night  was  cold  and  a  sharp  frost  formed,  but 
hot  with  excited  blood  we  did  not  feel  it  and  slept  heavily 
until  awakened  to  take  our  -turn  at  the  watch.  The  fires 
had  been  lighted  and  they  flared  over  the  plain,  across 


THE  NIGHT  BATTLE.  331 

which  the  fog-banks  still  rolled.  Beside  one  of  the  lar- 
gest, with  its  smoke  enveloping  them  at  times,  sat  Jack- 
son, Carroll,  Coffee,  and  other  high  officers  planning  for 
the  morrow.  By  some  lay  the  wounded,  over  whom  sur- 
geons were  working,  and  by  others  lay  the  dead,  for  whom 
the  grave  was  waiting.  Afar  the  enemy's  camp  fires  too 
twinkled  through  the  darkness,  but  no  sounds  were  heard 
on  the  plain  save  the  flowing  of  the  river  and  the  occa- 
sional cry  of  a  wounded  man.  Later  on  shots  were  fired 
and  alarms  were  sounded,  but  it  was  only  those  restless 
fellows,  the  skirmishers,  and  the  armies  settled  back  and 
lay  still. 

Day  came  at  last,  with  a  sharp  white  frost  covering  the 
ground,  and  then  it  was  wheelbarrows  and  shovels;  we 
would  intrench  where  we  stood,  with  the  shallow  old 
canal,  dug  long  ago  by  one  Rodriguez,  across  the  plain  as 
our  front  line,  and  the  enemy  should  not  come  a  foot 
nearer  the  city.  Then  we  went  to  work  digging  as  we 
had  fought  the  night  before,  while  another  schooner  that 
we  had,  the  Louisiana,  came  down  the  river  to  help  her 
sister,  the  Carolina,  which  had  done  such  splendid  work 
already. 

The  fog  lifted  slowly  from  the  plain  and  revealed  the 
British  camp  in  our  front,  and  with  the  light,  too,  came 
the  people  from  New  Orleans,  exulting  over  the  stopping 
of  the  enemy,  and  toiling  in  the  mud  with  us,  even  the 
women  handling  the  shovel  and  the  spade. 

"  If  they  only  knew  how  small  our  army  is  they  could 
sweep  us  out  of  their  way  with  a  well-sustained  charge," 
said  Courtenay  to  me. 

But  they  did  not  know,  and  General  Keane,  their  com- 
mander, was  afraid  to  attack;  he  was  waiting  for  Paken- 
ham  and  re-enforcements  who  were  due  now,  and  we 
looked  hourly  for  the  Kentuckians,  who  were  due  too, 
but  did  not  come. 

Shovels  and  wheelbarrows,  wheelbarrows  and  shovels 
it  was  throughout  the  day,  and  then  some  one  proposed 


332  A  HERALD  OP  THE  WEST. 

cotton  bales,  and  these,  too,  were  soon  brought  and  placed 
in  line.  Across  the  plain  our  intrenchments  ran  for  a 
mile,  and  before  us  the  British  also  were  intrenching, 
placing  hogsheads  of  sugar  against  our  bales  of  cotton. 
They  were  receiving  re-enforcements,  too,  from  their  ships 
and  were  dragging  heavy  cannon  across  the  delta  to  reach 
the  Carolina  and  the  Louisiana  in  the  river,  which  hung 
on  their  flank  and  scorched  them  with  an  incessant  fire. 
Not  a  column  could  be  formed  upon  the  plain  in  the  face 
of  the  fire  of  these  terrible  schooners,  and  not  a  man 
who  worked  on  their  intrenchments  was  safe  for  a  mo- 
ment from  their  balls.  An  entire  army  of  many  thousands 
was  besieged  by  two  little  schooners  carrying  scarcely 
two  hundred  men.  Behind  the  protecting  veil  of  their 
fire  we  worked  at  our  defences  and  prayed  for  time,  that 
the  Kentuckians  might  come  to  our  help. 

Those  were  days  of  danger,  excitement,  and,  for  me, 
a  certain  exhilaration  too.  I  had  witnessed  the  great  dis- 
grace of  Washington,  and  the  spirit  here  was  so  different 
that  I  thrilled  with  enthusiasm.  I  toiled  at  ditch  and 
breastwork  with  the  rest,  and  ate  with  sharp  appetite  the 
food  which  the  people  of  New  Orleans  brought  to  us. 
God  bless  their  Creole  souls!  We  must  never  forget  that 
in  all  this  time  they  were  among  the  bravest  and  most 
faithful. 

In  the  British  camp  they  toiled  too,  tried  to  devise 
some  shelter  from  the  scorching  fire  of  the  schooners,  and 
hastened  forward  the  heavy  cannon  with  which  they  in- 
tended to  destroy  them.  Christmas  morning  came,  clear, 
bright,  frosty,  but  not  like  our  snowy  holidays  of  the 
North,  where,  even  in  Kentucky,  zero  often  comes  knock- 
ing at  your  door,  and  you  can  draw  close  to  the  glowing 
coals  as  you  drink  your  eggnog.  On  that  morning  some  of 
us  scouting  and  skirmishing  heard  a  great  shouting  in  the 
British  camp,  and  we  thought  they  must  be  taking  their 
Christmas  very  well  indeed,  but  they  were  rejoicing  over 
the  arrival  of  their  commander  in  chief,  General  Sir  Ed- 


THE  NIGHT  BATTLE.  333 

ward  Pakenham,  son  of  the  Earl  of  Longford,  hero 
of  Salamanca,  brother-in-law  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington, 
and  his  favourite  officer.  With  him  came  more  re-en- 
forcements and  the  man  who  was  to  be  his  second  in  com- 
mand. Their  camp  was  now  full  of  generals  and  baronets 
and  their  troops  outnumbered  ours  three  to  one.  We 
looked  longingly  for  our  Kentuckians,  but  the  muddy 
Mississippi  did  not  bring  them. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

AT   BAY. 

WE  waited  for  our  enemy  to  strike,  and  now  he  was 
about  to  do  it,  for  on  the  second  night  after  Christmas 
Day  he  got  his  great  guns  in  position  and  opened  fire  on 
our  exasperating  little  schooners  which  had  been  stinging 
him  like  wasps. 

The  Louisiana,  lying  much  farther  up  stream,  was  not 
attacked  for  the  present,  but  her  comrade,  the  Carolina, 
being  closer  inshore  where  the  current  was  swifter,  could 
not  make  head  against  the  stream  and  was  forced  to  lie 
there  under  the  fire  of  all  the  battery. 

It  was  about  dawn  of  day  when  twelve  heavy  guns 
opened  fire  upon  the  little  schooner,  and  the  long  thun- 
dering roll  of  the  first  discharge  drew  us  all  to  our  in- 
trenchments.  There  we  lined  the  earthwork  and  watched 
the  encounter,  while  the  general  himself,  from  the  second 
story  of  the  house  among  the  trees,  levelled  on  the  com- 
batants an  old  telescope  borrowed  from  a  Frenchman.  The 
English  were  firing  balls  heated  white  hot  at  the  Carolina 
with  the  intention  of  blowing  her  up,  and  the  schooner 
had  only  a  single  long  twelve  with  which  she  could  reply, 
but  it  was  loaded  and  fired  so  fast  that  the  men  in  the 
English  battery  knew  they  had  something  to  fight.  Mer- 
cer, Courtenay,  and  I  were  together  lying  against  the 
little  wall  of  soft  earth,  with  our  eyes  peeping  over. 

"  It  can't  last  long,"  said  Courtenay.  "  One  gun 
against  a  dozen,  and  heavier  ones  at  that,  can't  win." 

But  that  one  gun  was  served  with  speed  and  courage, 
334 


AT  BAY.  335 

and  for  a  half  hour  the  thousands  on  either  side  stood 
there  and  watched  and  listened.  We  could  do  nothing 
to  help  our  little  ship,  and  perforce  we  waited  while  she 
made  her  fight  against  overwhelming  odds — a  gallant 
fight,  but  still  a  losing  one.  The  smoke  rose  high  over 
her  and  drifted  off  in  broad  clouds  under  the  sun,  while 
we  cheered  with  tremendous  spirit  when  the  schooner 
now  and  then  drove  the  British  gunners  to  shelter  under 
the  levee;  but  presently  a  bright  flame  shot  up  from  her 
timbers,  and  all  the  efforts  of  her  men  could  not  check  it. 
Higher  the  flames  rose;  we  could  see  plainly  that  they 
were  eating  their  way  to  the  heart  of  the  ship,  and  that 
her  crew  could  not  fight  the  overwhelming  battery  and 
the  rising  fire  at  the  same  time. 

"  Five  minutes  now,"  said  Courtenay,  "and  then  good- 
bye to  the  Carolina;  she's  a  brave  little  ship  and  she's 
done  her  work  well." 

He  was  a  true  prophet  accepted  by  his  time,  for  the 
British  guns  were  pouring  hot  shot  in  such  quantities 
upon  the  Carolina  that  all  her  timbers  burst  into  flames, 
and  the  crew,  abandoning  her,  escaped  to  the  shore.  The 
fire  of  the  British  battery  and  the  shouts  of  the  two  ar- 
mies ceased,  and  for  a  moment  or  two  silence  seemed  to 
hold  the  plain  which  had  just  been  resounding  with  can- 
non shots  and  the  cheers  of  thousands.  All  expected  the 
same  thing,  and  all  watched  the  burning  schooner  as  the 
flames  wrapped  her  around  until  she  glowed  like  the  in- 
side of  a  spouting  volcano;  then  she  seemed  to  fall  apart, 
a  streak  of  deeper  red  appeared  in  the  heart  of  the  fire, 
and  the  Carolina,  lifted  bodily  from  the  water,  flew  into 
a  million  hissing  and  smoking  fragments  hurled  high  in 
the  air,  as  the  ground  beneath  us  trembled  under  the 
crash  of  the  exploding  magazine.  Burning  pieces  fell  on 
the  Louisiana  a  mile  away,  and  the  plain  was  littered  with 
them.  The  English  raised  a  tremendous  cheer  as  the 
fabric  of  the  schooner  which  had  scorched  them  for  four 
days  sank  in  the  Mississippi,  and  we  felt  downcast  and 


336  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

gloomy  over  the  loss  of  our  faithful  little  ally;  in  New 
Orleans,  too,  they  heard  it,  guessed  what  it  was,  and  the 
same  sadness  was  felt  there. 

But  it  was  only  for  a  minute  or  two  that  the  English 
gunners  stopped;  then  they  turned  their  fire  on  the  Louis- 
iana farther  away,  but  her  crew,  with  oars  and  sweeps, 
were  able  to  take  her  up  the  stream  beyond  the  range 
of  the  great  guns,  and  when  we  saw  her  creeping  foot  by 
foot  out  of  danger  until  the  balls  could  not  reach  her, 
then  we  too  cheered  and  felt  that  the  triumph  was  not 
all  on  one  side.  Moreover,  the  crew  of  the  Carolina, 
trained  artillerymen,  came  to  help  us  with  the  land  guns. 
The  Baratarians  had  arrived,  too,  under  Dominique  You 
and  Belouche,  and  brown-faced  and  red-shirted,  looking 
like  the  pirates  they  were,  they  were  placed  at  the  twenty- 
four-pounders.  Our  lines  were  ready  now,  the  cannon,  a 
long  row  of  wide  muzzles,  looked  over  the  earthworks,  the 
Louisiana  had  dropped  down  the  river  again  that  she 
might  fire  from  our  flank,  and  we  awaited  the  advance  of 
the  enemy.  We  knew  that  the  waiting  would  not  be 
long,  for  they  were  massed  heavily  in  front  of  us,  and  our 
scouts  and  spies  said  that  all  their  batteries  were  in  posi- 
tion. 

That  night  the  guards  were  doubled,  and  even  in  the 
dark  no  movement  on  the  plain  escaped  their  attention. 
All  through  the  dusk  men  tramped  to  and  fro,  and  some 
still  worked  at  the  intrenchments.  There  was  no  doubt 
now  where  the  decision  would  come.  It  would  be  some- 
where on  that  narrow  space  between  those  two  rows  of 
breastworks  over  which  the  cannon  faced  and  threatened 
each  other.  Our  army  was  gathered  behind  one  and  the 
British  army  behind  the  other,  while  their  ships,  far  away 
at  the  entrance  to  Lake  Borgne,  could  not  reach  us  and 
had  not  dared  to  try  the  Mississippi. 

Morning  came,  the  fine  winter  morning  of  the  Gulf 
coast;  the  fog  and  the  grayness  in  the  air  had  gone. 
The  sky  was  a  dome  of  blue  velvet;  the  sunshine  clothed 


AT  BAY.  337 

the  earth,  and  the  muddy  river  turned  to  gold.  In  the 
trees  that  scattered  the  plain  the  ricebird  and  the  mock- 
ing bird,  careless  or  ignorant  of  armies,  were  singing.  I 
went  beyond  our  breastworks,  taking  with  me  the  spy- 
glass which  I  had  used  on  our  scout,  and  lying  behind  a 
hillock  I  levelled  it  on  the  British  works.  A  great  bustle 
was  going  on  there,  and  I  saw  many  men  moving  about. 
One  of  them  stepped  upon  the  breastwork  presently  and 
studied  our  lines  through  a  glass.  He  was  a  large  man 
of  erect,  soldierly  figure,  and  I  quickly  recognised  Major 
Northcote.  He  risked  his  life  from  our  sharpshooters  in 
the  plain  every  moment  he  spent  there,  but  none  fired 
and  he  took  his  time,  as  if  he  were  in  his  own  house;  in- 
deed, I  think  that  fear  had  no  part  in  the  man's  composi- 
tion. After  a  survey  of  two  or  three  minutes  he  stepped 
back  and  disappeared. 

Again  I  noticed  that  curious  sinking  of  sound,  the 
sudden  silence  which  so  often  precedes  a  tumult,  and  then 
a  single  cannon  of  theirs  near  the  levee  boomed.  The 
report  and  the  rising  smoke  seemed  to  serve  as  a  signal, 
for  a  whole  battery  crashed  at  once,  and  in  a  moment  the 
British  line  along  all  its  front  was  blazing  fire  and  hurl- 
ing lead  at  us,  while  the  Congreve  rockets,  of  which  they 
seemed  so  fond,  were  filling  the  air  with  changing  flames. 
Field  batteries,  too,  were  advancing  upon  us,  firing  as  they 
came,  but  we  soon  saw  that  they  were  wasting  lead,  for 
it  fell  short  and  we  were  not  hurt.  I  had  seen  enough  of 
war  now  to  know  that  this  must  be  a  mask  for  some  other 
movement,  and  presently  we  beheld  their  army  coming  in 
heavy  columns,  though  half  sheltered  by  some  houses. 
They  made  a  brave  sight  in  red,  gray,  green,  and  tartan, 
and  they  bore  themselves  as  bravely  as  they  looked,  for  I 
do  not  attack  the  courage  of  the  English  soldiers,  which 
has  been  shown  upon  so  many  fields  and  in  so  many 
countries.  Their  bands  were  playing,  but  could  scarcely 
be  heard  in  the  thunder  of  the  cannonade. 

On  they  came,  and  presently  the  guns  along  our  line 


338  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

opened  upon  them.  We  have  always  excelled  in  marks- 
manship, whether  with  cannon  or  rifles,  and  the  balls 
began  to  break  into  these  resplendent  squares,  to  hurl 
them  back  upon  each  other,  and  to  smash  them  up.  They 
were  nearer  now  and  the  riflemen  could  reach  them,  their 
bullets  sang  like  a  tempest  of  hail  swept  on  by  the  wind 
and  the  British  squares  reeled  back.  The  houses  caught 
fire,  and  torrents  of  flame  and  smoke  gushed  from 
them.  The  balls  from  the  Louisiana  crossed  the  plain 
and  swept  the  advancing  columns  with  a  flanking  fire. 
The  British  lines  were  crumbling  away,  some  of  the  can- 
non in  their  batteries  were  knocked  to  pieces,  and  before 
their  charge  was  really  begun  the  bugles  sounded  the 
retiring  notes  and  they  drew  off  the  field  to  the  protec- 
tion of  their  own  lines  and  intrenchments.  It  was  but 
a  demonstration,  a  skirmish,  to  feel  of  us,  and  I  do  not 
think  they  liked  the  feeling.  Then  we  toiled  again  at 
our  breastwork,  exulting  over  our  little  victories,  and 
waiting  to  see  what  the  enemy  would  do  next. 

The  last  three  days  of  the  year  passed  and  the  new 
year  of  1815  began,  and  meantime  the  enemy  had  been  as 
busy  as  we,  strengthening  his  works  and  dragging  from 
his  ships  his  heaviest  guns  that  he  might  batter  us  down. 
I  went  back  to  New  Orleans  to  obtain  a  supply  of  powder 
brought  in  from  the  country  and  found  the  little  city 
a  strange  mixture  of  fear  and  gayety — fear  lest  we  should 
be  beaten  in  the  end,  gayety  over  the  successes  we  had 
won  so  far.  The  natural  lightness  and  good  humour  of 
the  people  too  came  to  their  aid,  and  added  to  it  was  the 
enthusiasm  aroused  by  the  undoubted  zeal  and  courage  of 
the  Creoles  already  so  nobly  displayed.  But  I  could  hear 
nothing  of  the  Kentuckians.  Would  they  ever  come? 
The  old  Mississippi  forever  flowed  past,  but  it  did  not 
bring  them,  and  without  them  we  could  scarcely  hope 
to  win. 

Then  I  was  back  again  in  our  lines,  where  I  worked 
with  the  spade,  skirmished,  ate,  and  slept.  I  was  be- 


AT  BAY.  339 

ginning  to  feel  like  an  old  soldier  now,  and  the  incessant 
picket  firing  had  grown  so  much  a  thing  of  the  common 
that  I  ceased  to  pay  attention  to  it  unless  the  bullets  were 
coming  my  way.  On  the  afternoon  of  the  last  day  of 
the  year  the  British  planted  a  battery  near  a  swamp  and 
proceeded  to  make  a  great  noise,  which  they  kept  up  until 
sunset. 

The  night  was  the  darkest  that  we  had  seen  yet,  and 
eyes  being  of  little  use  we  had  recourse  to  our  ears,  though 
we  heard  nothing  over  the  British  way  but  a  dull  ham- 
mering, which  continued  all  night  long,  and  the  meaning 
of  which  we  could  not  guess. 

The  day  came,  but  it  brought  with  it  a  fog  so  thick 
and  heavy  that  we  could  not  see  twenty  feet  before  us. 
It  seemed  to  roll  up  from  the  river  in  huge  waves  like 
the  breakers  of  the  sea,  and  it  was  so  thick  that  I  felt 
as  if  I  could  grasp  it  by  handsful.  A  pale  glimmer  of 
the  sun  shone  through  it,  and,  as  in  the  darkness  of  the 
night,  the  hammering  in  front  of  us  went  on  and  we  could 
not  know  what  it  meant. 

"  It's  some  mischief — sure  to  be/'  said  Courtenay  as 
we  drank  coffee  together. 

That  he  was  right  I  had  no  doubt,  but  eight  o'clock 
came  and  the  fog  still  enveloped  both  armies  and  the 
space  between;  then  nine  o'clock  and  it  still  clothed  us, 
dense,  impenetrable,  while  through  it  came  the  steady 
hammering  and  beating,  and  even  the  hum  of  men's 
voices. 

"  One  can't  do  anything  in  this  fog,"  I  said  to  Cour- 
tenay; "  we  might  as  well  quit  work  and  take  a  day  of 
play." 

Our  commanders  seemed  to  think  so  too,  for  the 
Louisiana  remained  at  her  anchorage  and  the  general 
planned  a  review  of  the  troops  between  his  headquarters 
and  the  lines  when  the  fog  should  lift  sufficiently. 

Ten  o'clock  came,  and  many  of  us  had  put  down  our 
arms  and  were  at  ease.  The  fog  bank  began  to  rise,  lift- 


340  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

ing  itself  up  by  inches,  as  if  it  were  a  task  of  slowness, 
but  suddenly  changing  its  mind  it  rolled  away  from  the 
plain  like  the  folding  back  of  a  huge  blanket.  Then 
we  beheld  the  cause  of  the  ceaseless  hammering;  a  new 
battery  of  thirty  of  their  heaviest  guns,  brought  from 
the  ships,  and  planted  where  they  would  command 
our  lines.  Moreover,  their  regiments,  dressed  as  if  for 
a  holiday  parade,  were  deployed  for  battle,  and  the 
mounted  officers  were  galloping  about  with  orders.  The 
bands  began  to  play,  and  their  gaudy  battle  flags  broke 
out.  It  was  like  the  raising  of  a  curtain  at  a  theatre,  the 
sudden  replacing  of  the  fog  by  a  brilliant,  luminous  light 
in  which  everything  could  now  be  seen,  and  the  whole 
army  drawn  up  for  battle.  But  we  had  only  a  minute 
to  look,  for  some  one  gave  a  signal  and  their  thirty  heavy 
cannon  crashed  at  once;  again  the  air  was  filled  with  the 
red  glare  and  scream  of  the  rockets,  the  leaden  tempest 
was  poured  upon  us,  and  in  an  incredibly  brief  space 
clouds  of  smoke  obscured  the  plain.  Now  we  saw  why 
that  hammering  had  gone  on  so  persistently  night  and 
day  in  the  dense  fog,  and  I  will  confess  that  we  were 
taken  by  surprise  as  the  great  guns  of  the  enemy  drove 
their  deadly  storm  upon  us.  Within  our  lines  stood  a 
large  square  house,  occupied  by  the  general  as  his  head- 
quarters, and  the  British  seemed  to  know  it,  as  the  fire 
of  their  guns  was  hurled  for  a  while  directly  against  it. 
Well  aimed  they  were  too,  for  cannon  ball  after  cannon 
ball  smashed  into  it.  The  roof  was  knocked  to  pieces, 
the  portico  came  tumbling  down,  the  walls  were  beaten 
in,  and  the  officers  who  were  there  rushed  out  for  their 
lives — one,  the  chief  of  staff,  a  fellow-Kentuckian,  cov- 
ered with  rubbish. 

Clamour  and  confusion  arose  within  our  lines,  and 
there  was  a  great  tumult  of  men  running — running,  aye, 
running!  but  running  to  the  guns,  from  which  they  had 
been  drawn  by  the  fog  and  our  belief  that  there  would 
be  no  fight  that  day.  Order,  not  disorder,  showing  the 


AT  BAY.  341 

master  hand  and  iron  will  over  us,  prevailed,  and  for  ten 
minutes  we  endured  the  tempest  of  English  iron,  while 
our  gunners  found  their  places  and  waited  for  the  word 
of  the  general. 

I  lay  behind  the  mud-hank  and  watched  the  English 
fire,  the  sheets  of  flame,  the  puffs  of  thick,  black  smoke, 
the  whistling  of  the  rockets,  the  chuff!  chuff!  as  a  twen- 
ty-four-pound chunk  of  iron  buried  itself  in  our  mud- 
bank.  The  smoke  quickly  gathered  in  a  vast  cloud  that 
overhung  English  and  Americans  alike  and  the  air  grew 
dim. 

I  saw  the  general  walking  coolly  along  our  lines,  now 
ready  and  calm,  and  I  saw  his  lips  move  for  the  word  of 
fire,  though  I  could  not  hear.  A  twelve-pounder  was 
fired  from  our  front,  and  then  all  our  batteries  followed 
with  the  familiar  rolling  crash.  The  thunder  doubled 
and  the  sight  increased  in  magnificence  and  terror.  Bat- 
tery was  now  replying  to  battery,  and  a  continuous  blaze 
on  one  side  faced  a  continuous  blaze  on  the  other.  Our 
cotton  bales  were  knocked  into  the  air  as  if  they  had 
been  pieces  of  pine  wood,  and  our  cannon  balls  crashed 
through  their  hogsheads  as  if  they  were  so  much  thin 
plank,  sending  the  sugar  flying  yards  above  the  heads  of 
the  men.  People  will  tell  you  that  we  used  cotton  bales  in 
the  great  battle  itself,  but  it  is  not  so,  they  were  proved 
useless  in  this  preliminary  cannonade. 

"  Give  me  a  share  of  that  mud,"  said  Courtenay, 
pressing  himself  down  beside  Mercer  and  me,  where  he 
could  see.  As  we  were  not  gunners  and  not  needed,  we 
could  watch  the  artillery  duel,  which  was  growing  hotter 
and  noisier.  Our  lines  and  those  of  the  enemy  were 
close  together,  and  the  sheets  of  flame  seemed  to  meet 
midway  and  blend.  The  smoke  bank  above  us  thickened 
and  darkened,  but  the  streams  of  fire  like  lightning  cut 
through  it.  We  could  hear  the  shouting,  dull  and  muf- 
fled, but  we  could  not  tell  its  meaning.  What  was  pass- 
ing in  the  enemy's  lines,  whether  our  balls  were  aimed 


342  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

true,  we  did  not  know,  but  on  our  side  the  lead  was  be- 
ginning to  strike.  One  of  our  best  guns  was  knocked  off 
its  wheels,  some  of  the  gunners  were  killed,  and  the  cotton 
bales,  now  on  fire,  sent  up  their  smoke  to  mingle  with  the 
impenetrable  pall  which  overhung  us;  two  powder  car- 
riages blew  up  with  a  roar  that  stunned  us  for  a  minute, 
and  flying  fragments  fell  about  us;  but  despite  wounds  and 
explosions  our  gunners  worked  on,  loading  and  firing  so 
fast  that  men  stood  ready  with  buckets  of  water  to  cool  the 
heated  cannon.  I  tried  to  speak  to  my  comrades,  but  the 
words  were  soundless  amid  the  thunder  of  the  greatest 
cannonade  yet  heard  in  America. 

The  combat  assumed  a  strange  phase;  not  only  were 
the  hostile  lines  hidden  from  each  other,  but  also  the 
space  between,  save  when  the  gush  of  flame  from  the 
guns  drove  the  smoke  apart  for  a  moment.  As  we  could 
not  see  what  was  passing  in  the  British  lines,  they  could 
not  see  what  was  passing  in  ours,  and  there  was  nothing 
for  us  to  do  but  pound  away  with  all  the  might  of  our 
guns  at  the  place  where  we  knew  the  enemy  ought  to 
be.  This  we  did,  and  the  roll  of  the  cannonade  was  steady 
and  unbroken  until  about  the  noon  hour,  when  we  began 
to  notice  a  decrease  of  the  enemy's  fire.  Then  it  slack- 
ened so  fast  that  the  general  gave  our  gunners  the  order 
to  cease  firing  entirely,  an  action  which  the  enemy  imi- 
tated quickly,  and  the  stunning  tumult  which  had  lasted 
so  long  was  succeeded  only  by  the  voices  of  men.  We 
waited,  and  when  the  clouds  rose  a  spontaneous  cheer 
burst  from  our  army.  We  had  beaten  them  through  and 
through  at  the  guns. 

Their  new  batteries  of  heavy  cannon  had  been  ham- 
mered to  pieces  and  were  now  masses  of  debris,  mixed 
mud,  and  broken  iron,  while  their  gunners  lay  hidden  in 
the  ditch  behind  them,  and  on  all  sides  the  columns  that 
had  been  thrown  forward  expecting  to  charge  us  when  our 
fire  was  silenced  by  theirs  were  fleeing  to  the  shelter  of 
their  main  lines,  hastened  in  their  flight  by  an  occasional 


AT  BAY.  343 

shot  from  our  twelve  and  twenty-four  pounders.  We  re- 
peated our  cheer,  and  'there  was  joy  in  the  ragged  ranks 
of  our  backwoodsmen  and  Creoles,  for  another  formidable 
attempt  of  the  enemy  had  been  beaten  and  our  hopes  were 
rising  steadily. 

"  Their  war  cry  on  this  campaign  is  Beauty  and 
Booty,"  said  Courtenay  that  night  as  we  ate  supper  to- 
gether; "  but  they'll  have  to  be  patient  before  they  get 
either.  I  wonder  what  that  confident  kinsman  of  yours, 
Phil,  is  saying  to  these  rude  delays." 

I  could  easily  guess  Major  Northcote's  state  of 
mind  and  how  he  must  be  raging  at  the  caution  of  the 
British  commander.  Once  again  the  next  day,  when 
scouting,  I  thought  I  saw  him  on  one  of  their  breastworks 
examining  us  through  his  telescope,  but  I  was  not  sure. 

The  cannon  now  took  a  rest,  and  it  was  wheelbarrows 
and  spades,  spades  and  wheelbarrows  again  as  we  strength- 
ened our  lines  and  prepared  for  the  fight  that  was  yet  to 
come,  for  all  these  we  knew  were  the  preliminaries — 
Christmas  and  New  Year  fireworks. 

"  If  ever  again  I  get  a  chance  to  clean  myself  of  this 
black  delta  mud,"  said  Mercer,  "  I  shall  give  thanks." 

Two  or  three  days  passed,  and  there  was  another  shout 
of  joy  from  the  men  who  manned  the  works.  The  Ken- 
tuckians  had  come  at  last!  delayed  through  no  fault  of 
theirs  and  only  four  days  before  the  great  battle,  but  in 
time!  Here  they  were,  landed  at  the  levee  in  the  city 
and  marching  now  to  join  us,  twenty-two  hundred  strong. 
But  the  shout  of  joy  gave  way  to  a  groan  of  dismay.  It 
was  twenty-two  hundred  skeletons,  not  men,  that  were 
coming  to  help  us.  They  were  wasted  and  yellowed 
by  malarial  fevers,  thinned  by  scanty  food;  they  held 
their  rags  upon  them  with  their  hands  to  cover  their  nak- 
edness, and,  worst  of  all,  only  one  man  in  ten  was  well 
armed — only  one  man  in  three  armed  at  all.  Their  mus- 
kets and  rifles  were  loaded  somewhere  on  a  flatboat, 
which  arrived  in  New  Orleans  just  one  month  after  the 


A  HERALD  OP  THE  WEST. 

war  was  over.  How  the  general  swore  when  the  news 
came  to  him!  I  hear  much  nowadays  of  the  oaths  of 
the  mates  on  Mississippi  Eiver  steamboats,  but  I  am 
sure  the  best  of  them  would  blush  for  his  lack  of  expres- 
sion could  he  have  been  there  to  hear  General  Jackson. 
The  merchants  and  the  people  of  New  Orleans  had  to 
buy  clothes  for  them,  arms  were  found  for  some,  and  what 
they  lacked  in  equipment  they  tried  to  make  up  in  spirit 
and  courage. 

Cyrus  Pendleton  was  among  the  Kentuckians,  an  ani- 
mating spirit,  eager,  fiery,  and  sure  of  victory  when  he 
found  that  we  had  been  holding  the  British  army  in 
check. 

"Did  Marian  send  any  message  to  me?"  I  asked  at 
last. 

"  That  she  expected  you  to  come  back  a  victor! " 

That  was  all,  but  it  was  sufficient  for  me  that  there 
was  any,  and  I  knew  now  that  what  she  would  say  he 
would  say  too.  But  little  time  was  left  for  talk  about 
things  in  Kentucky,  since  neither  side  was  resting. 
The  British  cut  a  canal  from  the  Bayou  Bienvenu  across 
the  soft  mud  of  the  plain  to  the  Mississippi,  thus  getting 
their  light  boats  into  the  river,  and  we  had  to  send  a  new 
force  to  the  other  bank  to  meet  them,  but  we  still  pre- 
pared for  the  main  attack  on  the  east  bank.  Our  whole 
force  on  both  sides  of  the  river  was  about  five  thousand 
men,  against  which  the  enemy  could  bring  double  that 
number. 

The  night  of  the  7th  of  January  came  on,  cold,  dark, 
and  foggy.  The  noises  of  the  day,  the  crackling  fire  of 
the  skirmishers  ceased.  The  diggers  were  tired  and  threw 
down  spade  and  shovel.  The  men,  worn  with  work, 
talked  but  little,  and  smoked  their  pipes  or  slept.  A 
veil  of  fog  hung  over  the  river,  and  before  us  the  British 
army  was  invisible;  only  a  few  spear  points  of  light 
twinkled  through  the  foggy  dusk.  It  was  the  ominous 
stillness  which  one  associates  with  coming  thunder. 


AT  BAY.  345 

I  lay  down  and  slept.  My  booted  feet  rested  in  two 
inches  of  water,  but  I  had  grown  used  to  such  things  and 
did  not  care.  Through  the  hours  of  fog  and  dusk  and 
cold  I  slept,  and  far  toward  morning  I  felt  Courtenay 
pulling  at  me. 

"  Get  up,  Phil;  the  time  has  come." 
From  the  rampart  of  mud  some  one  called: 
"  It's  six  o'clock  of  a  foggy  morning,  and  the  English 
army  is  advancing! " 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

THE   EIGHTH   OF   JANUABY,  1815. 

I  LOOKED  out  upon  a  plain  covered  with  rolling  clouds 
of  fog  and  saw  nothing  living.  A  stream  of  fire  shot  up, 
curved,  fell,  and  was  lost  in  the  mist. 

"A  signal  rocket,"  said  Courtenay,  who  stood  be- 
side me. 

"  That  was  the  first,  and  this  is  the  second,"  said  Mer- 
cer, as  another  rocket  whizzed  aloft,  curved  widely,  and 
fell,  to  be  lost  like  the  other  in  the  fog. 

Then  silence. 

"  Put  your  ear  to  the  earthwork,  Phil,"  said  Cour- 
tenay. 

I  obeyed,  and  heard  a  faint,  far  rumble — the  tramp 
of  marching  thousands. 

"  Before  night  the  British  will  be  in  New  Orleans  or 
in  hell,"  said  a  wild  Tennesseean. 

Some  soldiers  seized  the  brands  of  our  camp  fire 
and  threw  them  together.  They  blazed  up  and  flickered 
along  our  line,  showing  the  faces  of  the  men,  fierce  and 
wild  in  the  fog  and  the  quivering  light,  the  Creoles,  the 
Baratarians,  the  regulars  and  the  marines  at  the  cannon, 
free  negroes,  San  Domingans,  a  dozen  of  Napoleon's  old 
soldiers  in  charge  of  a  brass  cannon,  the  Tennesseeans 
and  the  Kentuckians,  in  brown  homespun,  lining  the 
breastwork  in  fours  rows,  long  rifle  in  hand;  then  Cof- 
fee's Indian  fighters,  standing  knee-deep  in  the  black  mud 
and  water  of  a  swamp — only  four  thousand  of  us  alto- 
gether, but  filled  with  the  indomitable  spirit  of  Jackson. 
All  were  intent,  eager,  listening. 
346 


THE  EIGHTH  OF  JANUARY,   1815.  347 

I  put  my  ear  to  the  earthwork  and  the  rumble  grew 
louder.  Through  the  mists  came  the  music  of  many 
bands,  rising  above  the  tramp  of  marching  feet.  It  was 
dance  music,  a  merry  note,  and  my  wilful  foot  moved  to 
the  tune.  Suddenly,  above  the  melody,  rose  a  wild,  wail- 
ing strain. 

"  That's  the  bagpipe  of  the  Highlanders,  always  the 
bravest  soldiers  of  the  British  army,"  said  Mercer. 

Our  lines  stood  unmoved,  and  but  few  sounds  came 
from  them — the  clank  of  a  sword,  a  command,  an  oath, 
a  laugh,  and  the  murmur  of  an  army  which  never  ceases. 

"  Where  is  the  sun?  "  asked  Courtenay. 

There  it  was,  above  the  horizon,  but  a  pale,  yellow 
blur  in  the  fog,  and  still  we  could  see  nothing  living, 
though  the  rumble  grew  louder  and  the  music  of  the 
bands  and  the  wailing  of  the  bagpipes  came  clearly 
through  the  fog.  The  man  on  the  rampart  of  mud  had 
spoken  truly;  the  British  army,  the  whole  of  it,  was  ad- 
vancing. Pakenham,  goaded  by  Cochrane,  the  admiral 
who  had  given  the  command  to  burn  and  destroy  every 
American  town  that  could  be  reached,  had  ordered  the 
attack.  It  was  this  ferocious  old  man  who  had  told 
Pakenham  that  if  the  army  could  not  take  the  mud 
banks  of  the  Americans  he  would  do  it  with  the  marines. 
What  a  pity  that  the  two  could  not  have  exchanged  places 
that  day,  and  the  better  would  have  been  spared! 

"  How  are  we  to  fire  through  all  this  fog!  "  grumbled 
Cyrus  Pendleton  as  he  knocked  against  my  elbow. 

But  the  answer  was  ready  for  him,  the  drifting  fog 
was  lifting,  drawing  slowly  away  from  the  plain  as  if 
reluctant  to  go.  The  music  came  louder,  and  through 
the  fog  appeared  a  faint  red  glimmer,  the  vanguard  of 
the  British  army.  The  sudden  deep-mouthed  note  of  a 
cannon,  thirty  yards  to  my  left,  boomed  over  the  plain, 
the  first  gun  of  the  battle.  Then  there  was  silence  again, 
save  the  far  note  and  rumble  of  the  bands  and  the  bag- 
pipes, for  after  the  single  cannon  shot  the  fog  settled 


34:8  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

back  again,  heavy,  impenetrable,  and  the  red  gleam  was 
gone. 

Tramp!  tramp!  tramp!  we  could  hear  them  advancing, 
and  the  music  grew  loud  and  triumphant. 

"  The  nearer  they  come,  the  better  for  our  marks- 
men/' Cyrus  Pendleton  muttered. 

As  far  to  left  and  right  as  I  could  see  our  men  were 
motionless,  the  Kentuckians  and  Tennesseeans  bent  over 
until  they  stooped,  their  rifles  grasped  in  their  hands, 
each  a  perfect  type  of  the  forest  fighter  who  awaits  his 
enemy  and  listens  for  his  coming. 

The  music  of  the  bands,  played  in  perfect  tune, 
swelled  over  the  plain  and  filled  our  ears.  The  fog 
swung  away  from  the  earth  again  and  rose  slowly;  then, 
caught  by  some  stray  wind,  it  whirled  up  in  clouds,  and 
the  plain  lay  before  us,  covered  with  the  British  army, 
a  multitude  gleaming  in  red,  yellow,  and  green,  English, 
Scotch,  Irish,  Welsh,  the  sunshine  flashing  on  swords 
and  bayonets,  their  deep  columns  flanked  by  artillery. 
On  they  came  in  perfect  order,  the  bands  still  playing, 
but  their  music  lost  now  in  the  tremendous  cheering  of 
many  thousand  men  who  advanced  in  even  lines  to  what 
they  thought  was  not  much  more  than  a  dress  parade. 

"What  a  magnificent  sight! "  said  Mercer. 

"Magnificent,  truly,"  replied  Courtenay,  "but  much 
more  magnificent  than  it  will  be  a  half  hour  from  now! " 

Again  they  opened  fire  with  their  whistling  rockets, 
some  of  which  shrieked  far  over  our  heads,  and  the  ar- 
tillery on  their  flanks  began  to  add  a  deeper  note.  The 
mud  in  our  embankment  was  spattered  high,  and  some 
drops  striking  me  in  the  face  burnt  like  powder.  A  bat- 
tery, the  nearest  of  ours  to  me,  replied  to  them,  and  two 
more  followed  with  their  fiery  salute.  The  smoke  drove 
the  fog  upward  and  took  its  place.  The  British,  their 
cheers  thundering  above  the  artillery,  came  on  with  firm- 
ness and  precision;  the  cannon  balls  were  smashing  into 
their  front  lines  and  men  were  falling,  but  others  took 


THE  EIGHTH  OF  JANUARY,   1815.  349 

their  places,  and  still  they  came  in  solid  ranks,  drums 
beating,  bands  playing,  bagpipes  wailing,  and  bayonets 
shining.  The  smoke  was  not  yet  dense  enough  to  hide 
the  sun,  and  it  gleamed  over  that  multitude  on  the  plain, 
intensifying  the  colours  of  arms,  banners,  and  uniforms 
as  if  they  were  the  legions  decked  for  a  Roman  triumph. 
They  came  so  steadily  and  so  firmly  that  for  a  moment  I 
felt  a  pride  in  them,  because  I  too  had  Anglo-Saxon  blood 
in  me,  and  now  I  knew  why  the  soldiers  of  the  European 
Continent,  man  for  man,  could  seldom  stand  before  them. 
Yet  the  British  line  was  dripping  blood,  and  all  the  front 
of  it  was  spattered.  The  first  rank  was  burnt  away  by 
the  cannon  fire,  but  the  second  took  its  place.  It  seemed 
to  me  that  I  could  hear  the  bones  cracking  under  the 
shower  of  lead  from  our  artillery,  and  a  body  would  shoot 
up  under  the  impact  of  a  cannon  ball,  and  then  fall  back 
to  the  earth.  But  the  British  regiments,  scorched  and 
bleeding,  were  cheering  each  other,  closing  up  their  shot- 
torn  ranks,  and  coming  on  at  the  same  steady  pace.  The 
music  of  the  bands  and  the  roar  of  the  artillery  mingled 
with  the  shouting  of  men  and  whistling  of  projectiles,  and 
became  an  unbroken  tumult. 

Our  riflemen  were  not  yet  allowed  to  fire,  and  I 
turned  my  eyes  again  from  the  terrible,  yet  magnificent 
spectacle  in  front  of  us  to  our  lines.  Looking  upon  them 
I  saw  that  this  was  a  new  race  of  men,  different  from 
the  old  races  of  Europe,  tall,  lean,  big  boned,  alert,  mas- 
ters of  themselves,  upon  all  the  stamp  of  the  American 
West.  They  were  bent  farther  over  now,  each  man 
clasping  his  rifle  in  nervous  fingers,  intent  eyes  on  the  ad- 
vancing enemy,  something  of  the  North  American  Indian 
in  every  face.  I  saw  with  the  suddenness  of  inspiration 
the  fate  that  awaited  the  British  army  when  it  came 
within  the  range  of  those  rifles,  and  I  shuddered  for 
brave  men. 

"  Good  God,  what  a  mark  to  shoot  at! "  said  the  wild 
Tennesseean  near  me. 


350  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

He  raised  his  rifle,  I  heard  its  short  whiplike  crack 
in  my  ear  even  though  the  artillery  was  roaring  around 
me,  and  I  saw  an  officer  directly  in  front  of  me  fall  from 
his  horse.  But  no  other  rifle  was  fired,  and  an  officer  re- 
buked him  sharply  for  his  shot.  The  cannon  were  doing 
the  work,  and  the  rifles  were  reserved  for  shorter  range. 
Along  our  whole  line  they  were  loading  and  firing  the 
great  guns  now,  and  the  discharges  crashed  out  all  at 
once  sometimes,  then  ran  from  right  to  left  or  from  left 
to  right  in  a  rolling  fire,  like  the  crash  of  incessant  thun- 
der. I  watched  the  flame  as  it  blazed  along  our  em- 
bankment like  sheet  lightning,  or  gushed  out  like  the 
explosion  of  a  magazine. 

Over  our  heads  the  smoke  cloud  thickened  and  black- 
ened, but  as  yet  it  hung  high,  and  the  advancing  enemy 
could  be  seen  plainly;  their  front  lines  were  burnt  or 
beaten  away;  some  of  the  banners  had  fallen  with  those 
who  held  them,  and  only  the  broken  notes  of  the  music 
came  now  through  the  roaring  that  filled  our  ears. 

"  They  can  crush  Frenchmen  this  way,  but  they  can 
not  crush  us! "  shouted  Cyrus  Pendleton  in  my  ear. 

It  was  a  boast,  but  it  was  a  true  one. 

Behind  me  and  around  me  I  heard  the  gunlocks 
clicking.  The  frontiersmen,  the  boys  among  them,  were 
growing  impatient,  but  the  sharp  orders  of  the  command- 
ers kept  their  fingers  from  the  triggers.  I  glanced  again 
down  the  quadruple  line  of  Kentuckians  and  Tennessee- 
ans,  tanned  by  the  sun  and  winter  winds  to  the  hue  of 
Indians,  the  largest  men  in  the  world  except  the  Scan- 
dinavians, and  the  strongest.  Then  I  turned  my  eyes 
back  upon  the  advancing  army,  which  looked  now  like  a 
many-coloured  sea,  sweeping  on  in  a  strong  tide  and 
shimmering  in  the  sun.  Furrows  were  smashed  in  the 
ranks  by  the  cannon  balls,  but  they  closed  up  again  and 
still  presented  solid  columns. 

The  thunder  of  the  cannon  deepened  and  became  a 
steady  roll,  for  all  our  great  guns  were  firing  now  upon 


THE  EIGHTH  OF  JANUARY,   1815.  351 

the  advancing  columns,  and  the  British  batteries  replied 
with  their  whole  strength.  They  discharged  showers  of 
balls  and  rockets,  but  they  fell  short  or  passed  over  us. 
The  sheets  of  flame  from  our  lines  seemed  to  reach  out 
at  times  and  touch  the  fire  from  theirs,  and  the  puffing 
smoke  met,  mingled,  and  floated  upward  to  join  the 
huge  bank  of  it  which  was  steadily  thickening  and  dark- 
ening. Despite  the  tumult  I  could  see  that  our  balls 
were  striking  true,  they  sped  neither  too  high  nor  too 
low,  but  were  driven  straight  at  their  target,  and  those 
of  the  British  were  flying  everywhere  except  where  they 
were  aimed.  But  the  brigades  continued  to  come,  their 
ranks  preserved,  still  cheering,  though  we  could  hear  it 
only  in  broken  shouts,  their  bands  playing  the  martial  airs 
which  were  soundless  now.  They  advanced,  columns 
deep,  presenting  a  long  line  of  glittering  bayonets,  and 
officers  on  foot  and  on  horseback  led  them.  One,  a  tall 
man,  drawn  sword  in  hand,  with  which  he  gesticulated 
and  pointed  to  us,  I  recognised  as  my  kinsman,  Major 
Northcote.  He  was  the  nearest  man  to  us,  and  I  felt  no 
surprise  at  seeing  him  there. 

"  They  are  within  two  hundred  and  fifty  yards  of  us," 
shouted  Cyrus  Pendleton  in  my  ear.  "  Fifty  yards  more, 
and  the  rifles  will  begin  to  talk." 

Foot  by  foot  they  came,  and  by  the  flash  of  the  can- 
non I  saw  their  faces  distinctly,  and  could  even  mark 
their  features.  Here  were  the  English,  ruddy,  heavy- 
jawed;  there  the  Irish,  darker  eyed,  darker  haired;  yon- 
der the  Highlanders,  tall,  red-bearded,  the  set  faces  of 
them  all  showing  through  the  battle  flare,  the  blood 
of  many  of  them  soaking  into  the  moist  earth  of  the 
delta. 

The  fifty  yards  had  been  crossed,  and  then  came  the 
command  to  the  riflemen  to  fire.  Those  who  have  heard 
the  crack  of  the  long-barrelled  Western  rifle  like  the 
lashing  of  a  whip  do  not  forget  it,  and  when  so  many 
were  fired  at  once  the  shriller,  piercing,  and,  to  me,  more 


352  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

terrible  crash  rose  clearly  above  the  roar  of  the  cannon. 
Nor  were  they  aimed  merely  at  the  red  blur  of  the  ad- 
vancing army,  for  each  of  the  riflemen  was  a  sharpshooter 
and  he  picked  his  man,  looking  down  the  sights  until  the 
bead  was  drawn  true.  I  may  need  to  ask  forgiveness 
some  day  for  the  cry  of  joy  I  uttered  when  I  saw  the  re- 
sult; the  red  line  of  the  English  reeled  back  for  the  first 
time;  the  front  rank  was  gone,  annihilated,  swept  down 
by  the  breath  of  the  rifles,  and  the  others,  thrown  into 
confusion,  staggered  and  hesitated,  while  the  officers 
rushed  about  trying  to  restore  order.  The  second  line  of 
our  riflemen  stepped  forward  into  the  place  of  the  first, 
poured  in  their  fire,  gave  way  to  the  third  line,  which 
fired  and  yielded  to  the  fourth,  which  was  followed  by 
the  first,  guns  now  reloaded,  and  over  again,  one  after 
another  in  perfect  rotation,  in  a  fire  that  was  unceasing, 
that  filled  the  air  with  whistling  bullets,  and  went  straight 
to  the  mark.  It  was  a  terrible  machine  that  was  working 
now,  one  line  forward,  rifles  up  and  the  hail  of  bullets, 
and  then  another  and  the  bullets  again,  and  so  on  without 
ceasing,  the  riflemen  shouting  but  little,  and  their  fire, 
as  all  who  were  there  will  tell  you,  rolling  in  waves  like 
that  of  the  artillery  as  volley  followed  volley.  The  steady 
clicking  of  the  gunlocks  could  be  heard  in  the  roar  of 
the  battle,  and  the  men's  faces  remained  eager,  intent 
eyes  on  their  rifles,  and  then  on  the  advancing  squares. 

The  smoke  clouds  half  hid  the  field,  but  we  could  see 
the  British  re-enforcements  coming  to  the  relief  of  the 
shattered  vanguard.  But  they  too  were  swept  down  by 
a  fire  as  well  aimed  and  deadly  as  any  that  was  ever  given 
in  battle. 

"  Good  Lord,  this  is  slaughter,  and  all  on  one  side  !" 
cried  Courtenay. 

I  knew  what  he  meant,  for  as  far  as  I  could  see  not 
a  single  man  on  our  side  had  fallen,  and  the  plain  in 
front  of  us  was  thickly  sown  with  the  English  dead. 
Their  columns  were  heaving  and  struggling  like  a 


THE  EIGHTH  OF  JANUARY,   1815.  353 

wrecked  ship  on  the  topmost  wave,  and  a  few  groups, 
ten,  a  dozen,  or  fifteen  in  each,  still  advanced,  to  be  picked 
off  by  the  sharpshooters. 

Our  men  began  to  shout  and  cheer,  though  they 
did  it  in  a  mechanical  way,  their  eyes  on  their  rifles  or 
the  enemy.  Never  for  a  moment  was  the  precision  of 
their  fire  or  the  regular  change  of  the  ranks  disturbed; 
one  line  stepped  forward  in  the  mud,  now  trodden  into 
a  horrible  mire,  up  went  their  rifles,  then  the  long  sheet 
of  light  and  storm  of  bullets,  and  they  yielded  their  place 
to  another  rank,  to  come  forward  again  with  reloaded 
pieces  in  their  turn. 

The  British  army  was  still  reeling  about  and  seemed 
to  be  struck  with  paralysis;  unable  to  advance,  unwilling 
to  retreat,  it  staggered  from  side  to  side,  and  the  squares 
were  losing  cohesion.  A  fringe  of  men  dropped  off,  and 
at  last  began  to  run  away.  The  officers  were  swept  down 
by  the  bullets,  and  the  plain,  where  we  could  see  it,  was 
an  ooze  of  bloody  mud.  I  wondered  how  much  longer 
they  could  stand  it.  While  they  wavered  there  I  saw  an 
officer  on  horseback  spur  his  horse  through  the  distracted 
ranks  to  the  very  front.  It  was  the  gallant  Pakenham, 
their  commander  in  chief,  and  many  of  us  guessed  it  by 
his  dress.  A  regiment  was  about  to  run,  and  I  saw  him 
snatch  off  his  hat  and  point  toward  the  wall  of  fire  in  their 
front,  as  if  he  would  tell  them  that  was  the  way  to  go. 
The  arm  fell,  broken  by  a  rifle  ball,  his  horse  was  killed 
under  him,  but  he  sprang  upon  the  black  pony  of  an 
aide,  and  I  could  plainly  see  him  encouraging  the  regi- 
ment, which  broke,  however,  and  fled.  Then  he  galloped 
toward  the  massive  regiment  of  the  Highlanders — ever 
among  the  bravest  of  men — which  was  still  advan- 
cing steadily.  We  looked  with  admiration  at  their  solid 
column,  over  which  the  sunlight  fell  clearly  at  that  mo- 
ment, the  smoke  drifting  aside.  Their  ranks  were  as  yet 
unbroken,  their  bagpipes  playing,  General  Pakenham  at 
the  right  of  their  columns,  and  General  Gibbs,  the  sec- 


354  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

ond  in  command  of  the  army,  at  their  left.  They  ad- 
vanced, and  a  thirty-two-pound  cannon,  loaded  to  the 
muzzle  with  musket  balls,  was  fired  directly  into  the 
square,  sweeping  down  nearly  a  fourth  of  the  men,  and 
then  the  rifles  poured  their  hail  upon  the  doomed  regi- 
ment. It  faltered  and  stopped,  and  the  men  looked  about 
as  if  they  knew  not  which  way  to  go.  Pakenham  snatched 
off  his  hat  again,  and  waving  it,  now  in  his  left  hand, 
shouted  to  them.  His  officers  clustered  around  and 
helped  him  to  encourage  the  men.  A  mass  of  grapeshot 
whistled  through  the  air  and  struck  in  the  very  centre 
of  the  group.  Nearly  all  went  down,  and  Pakenham 
was  dragged  from  the  bodies,  to  be  struck  again  be- 
fore they  could  take  him  from  the  field,  and  to  die  five 
minutes  later  in  the  shade  of  an  old  live  oak  in  the  rear. 
A  brave  man  who  should  have  been  sent  on  a  better  mis- 
sion! Gibbs,  too,  fell  and  was  carried  off  the  field  to  die 
on  the  morrow,  and  then  Keane,  the  third  in  command, 
went  down,  wounded  in  the  neck  and  thigh,  and  was  car- 
ried away.  Their  colonel  was  killed,  but,  led  by  the 
the  major,  these  heroic  Highlanders  summoned  up  their 
courage  and  again  advanced  in  the  face  of  our  rifles 
and  cannon,  though  they  came  slowly.  "Within  one  hun- 
dred yards  of  us  they  stopped,  and  the  great  square  stood 
there,  kilts  and  tartans  glittering,  but  again  they  were 
struck  with  that  deadly  paralysis,  while  the  fire  converged 
upon  them  and  line  after  line  crumbled  away  until,  of 
the  nine  hundred  men  who  had  come  on,  less  than  one 
hundred  and  fifty  were  left,  and  these,  recoiling  as  if 
they  realized  suddenly  the  deadly  furnace  into  which 
they  had  advanced,  fled  shouting  in  horror  and  did  not 
stop  until  they  were  hid  in  the  ditches  and  black  mud  of 
the  swamp.  , 

Vast  clouds  of  smoke  floated  between  us  and  covered 
the  fleeing  Highlanders  and  most  of  the  slain,  but  the  fire 
of  the  cannon  and  the  rifles  was  undiminished,  sweeping 
the  field  from  every  point,  and  though  we  could  not  see 


THE  EIGHTH  OF  JANUARY,   1815.  355 

through  the  smoke  we  knew  that  balls  and  hullets  still 
found  their  mark.  I  hoped  that  the  next  lifting  of  the 
smoke  would  show  them  in  retreat,  not  alone  for  our  v%ic- 
tory  but  for  their  own  sake  too. 

The  waves  of  smoke  rolled  apart  for  an  instant,  split 
by  the  cannon  fire,  and  disclosed  the  wreck  that  strewed 
the  plain.  Far  to  the  right  and  left  it  was  covered  with 
red-clothed  bodies;  some  regiments  were  running,  others 
wavered  upon  the  field,  and  several  officers,  waving  their 
swords  and  followed  by  a  few  soldiers,  were  still  rushing 
toward  us;  then  the  smoke  clouds  closed  up  again  and  we 
saw  nothing,  while  the  din  of  arms  went  on  as  ever. 

Some  soldiers  dashed  out  of  the  fog-bank  which  hung 
to  the  very  edge  of  our  parapet  of  mud  and  rushed  at  us; 
one,  a  major,  reached  the  top  of  the  parapet  and  fell 
dying  upon  it;  another,  a  tall  figure,  his  face  flaming 
with  passion,  stood  at  full  height  an  instant  upon  the 
earthwork,  then  leaped  into  our  ranks  and  slashed  at 
us  with  his  sword  as  he  cried  to  us  to  yield. 

"  Surrender,  cousin!  Major  Northcote!  "  I  cried;  "  do 
you  not  see  that  you  are  alone?" 

He  looked  around  him  like  one  dazed,  like  one  who 
could  not  believe.  Then  he  slashed  savagely  at  a  rifleman, 
and  as  the  blow  was  parried  on  a  gun  barrel  he  fell,  for 
he  was  pierced  already  with  many  wounds,  and  died  at 
my  feet.  On  that  very  spot,  within  our  lines,  where  he 
had  come  alone,  he  was  buried,  by  permission  of  General 
Jackson,  and  as  a  mark  of  respect  for  his  bravery,  many 
cannon  were  driven  over  his  grave. 

The  whole  field  was  now  covered  by  the  smoke,  and  it 
was  so  thick  that  the  flare  of  the  cannon  and  rifles  did 
not  cut  a  way  through  it,  and  no  sound  came  to  us  but 
the  steady  roar  of  the  great  guns  and  the  crack  of  the 
rifles.  Mr.  Pendleton  suddenly  put  his  ear  to  the  earth- 
work, and,  seeing  him,  I  did  the  same. 

"  What  do  you  hear?  "  he  asked. 

"  Nothing  but  the  cannonade." 


356  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

"  No  rumble,  no  tread  of  advancing  footsteps?  " 

"  No." 

"  Neither  do  I;  the  British  army  has  fled." 

The  smoke-bank  still  hung  before  us,  dense,  imper- 
vious, but  no  human  form,  nothing  came  from  it.  It  en- 
veloped alike  the  dead,  who  lay  where  they  fell,  and  the 
living,  who  came  no  farther. 

Slowly  our  fire  died,  and  a  breeze  rising  from  the 
river  began  to  move  the  heavy  banks  of  smoke  and  drive 
them  away.  As  they  lifted  the  first  sight  disclosed  to 
us  was  the  rows  and  heaps  of  dead,  and  the  wounded  who 
crawled  about  on  the  plain. 

"  Twenty-five  minutes,"  said  Courtenay,  shutting  his 
watch  with  a  snap. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  twenty-five  minutes?"  I 
asked. 

"  Only  twenty-five  minutes  since  the  first  gun  was 
fired,  and  we've  won  the  greatest  victory  in  our  his- 
tory." 

But  from  the  front  came  the  defiant  note  of  a  bugle. 
Clear  and  shrill  it  swelled  above  our  waning  fire,  and 
many  of  the  men  raised  their  rifles. 

Ta-ra-ra!  ta-ra-ra!  rang  the  bugle  note,  gay,  saucy, 
and  defiant. 

"  Can  they  have  returned  to  the  attack?  "  I  asked  in 
amazement. 

"  Impossible/'  said  Cyrus  Pendleton;  "  wait!  " 

The  roof  of  smoke  lifted  higher  and  higher,  and  still 
the  defiant  bugle  note,  never  ceasing,  rang  out.  A  laugh 
and  a  cheer  alike  rose  from  our  lines  when  we  saw  the 
cause;  a  little  English  boy,  a  bugler  charging  with  his 
company,  had  climbed  a  tree  in  the  plain  in  front  of  us 
and  there  he  remained  throughout  the  battle,  blowing  his 
bugle  for  the  charge,  and  there  he  was  now,  perched 
astride  the  one  bough  that  the  cannon  balls  had  left  on 
the  tree,  his  bugle  at  his  lips,  while  he  blew  the  notes 
which  called  upon  his  comrades  to  charge  once  more  over 


THE  EIGHTH  OF  JANUARY,   1815.  357 

the  field  which  he  held  alone.  Some  riflemen  went  out, 
took  down  the  little  soldier,  and  adopted  him. 

Up  went  the  clouds  and  the  whole  field  now  lay  "before 
us,  covered  with  bodies  and  soaked  with  blood.  The 
wounded  crawled  to  us  for  help,  and  many  unhurt,  who 
had  lain  flat  upon  the  ground  to  escape  the  bullets,  came 
in  and  surrendered. 

The  smoke  receded  farther,  and  showed  us  the  faint 
red  gleam  of  the  retreating  British  columns,  some  of 
them  columns  no  longer,  just  huddles  of  fleeing  men,  but 
as  far  as  we  could  see  the  field  was  thickly  sown  with  the 
dead  and  wounded.  Some  of  the  heaps  moved,  and  an 
unhurt  man  who  had  been  stricken  down  by  fear  would 
come  forth  to  surrender.  The  groans  of  the  wounded 
made  an  unceasing  lament,  a  sickening  odour  of  blood 
arose,  and  little  whiffs  of  smoke,  like  the  haze  of  fever 
swamps,  floated  about. 

I  felt,  first,  that  we  had  paid  them  back  for  all  we 
had  suffered  from  them,  and  then  pity. 

The  red  blur  of  the  retreating  enemy  disappeared 
under  the  horizon,  and  our  general  passed  along  the  lines 
praising  the  courage  and  markmanship  of  all.  Then  we 
went  out  to  help  the  wounded  and  to  bring  them  in,  and 
in  all  that  astonishing  battle  only  seven  men  of  ours  were 
killed. 

Thus  we  held  New  Orleans,  and  the  beaten  enemy 
fleeing  to  his  ships  soon  left  our  shores,  the  last  foe  that 
has  ever  been  seen  upon  them.  In  a  short  time  the  news 
of  the  peace  came — a  peace  honourable  and  glorious  to 
us,  for  in  war  with  the  strongest  nation  of  Europe  we  had 
shown  that  we  feared  no  one,  either  by  sea  or  land,  and 
were  prepared  to  hold  our  own  at  any  price.  We  had 
shown,  moreover,  that  we  would  protect  our  rights  wher- 
ever they  existed,  that  the  seas  were  free  to  all,  and  that 
one  country  could  not  rob  another  of  its  people  merely 
because  it  needed  them.  All  the  principles  for  which  we 
fought  against  immense  odds  have  become  the  acknowl- 


358  A  HERALD  OF  THE  WEST. 

edged  laws  of  civilization  and  humanity,  just  as  those 
for  which  we  fought  in  the  Kevolution  are  now  the  birth- 
right of  the  Anglo-Saxon  race,  and  none  to-day  would 
question  them. 

Since  then  no  European  power  has  dared  to  molest  us, 
and  I  do  not  think  that  any  one  will  fight  us  with  arms, 
though  they  continue  the  old  campaign  of  falsehood  and 
abuse.  And  if  Europe  should  feel  aggrieved  sometimes 
because  we  do  not  like  her,  she  should  remember  that  she 
was  the  cause  of  it,  and  thus  we  leave  her  to  her  mass  of 
intrigue  and  lying  which  she  calls  diplomacy  and  to  her 
standard  of  manners  instead  of  morals. 

But  I  know  the  old  powers  will  never  forgive  us  for 
not  standing  in  awe  of  them,  the  last  insult  to  boastful 
nations. 

Nevertheless,  I  have  this  to  say  of  the  English:  I 
think  them  the  best  people  in  Europe,  the  only  steadfast 
friends  that  freedom  and  the  right  have  there,  and  though 
we  have  quarrelled  with  them  and  fought  with  them  and 
scolded  them  and  been  scolded  by  them,  yet  we  pay  them 
the  highest  compliment  of  boasting  of  no  victories,  save 
those  we  have  won  over  them,  and  we  are  glad  that  we 
were  their  colonies  and  those  of  no  other  country.  And 
as  I  see  the  better  England  conquering  the  worse  and 
leading  the  nation  in  the  path  of  justice,  I  have  a  little 
wish,  and  perhaps  an  equal  hope,  that  we  shall  stand  to- 
gether again,  and  always  for  the  right. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

A   GIRL   IN   WHITE. 

THE  spring  had  come  again  and  was  ripening  into 
summer  when  I  rode  through  the  gentle  sweep  of  the 
blue  grass  toward  a  house  just  under  the  edge  of  the 
horizon.  The  battle  smoke  was  far  behind  and  forgotten, 
and  there  was  nothing  around  me  but  peace,  nothing  to 
tell  of  the  muddy  delta,  the  black  swamps,  and  the  field 
of  the  dead  a  thousand  miles  away,  only  the  green  grass 
and  the  wild  flowers  rippling  under  a  gentle  west  wind, 
and  the  lazy  cattle  lying  beside  a  brook  flowing  in  coils 
of  burnished  silver  through  the  meadows. 

I  rode  on  and  the  west  wind  sang  in  my  ears.  The 
old  earth  had  blossomed  again  and  put  on  her  most  beau- 
tiful colours.  Afar  gleamed  the  pink  cone  of  a  peach 
tree  in  bloom,  and  some  flowers  twining  about  a  stone 
fence  shone  in  blue  and  red. 

I  approached  the  house  and  in  front  of  it,  among 
the  flowers,  a  tall  girl  in  white,  with  a  red  rose  in  her 
hair,  awaited  me.  "When  I  took  her  hands  in  mine,  I 
said: 

"  Marian,  I  have  come  back  again,  and  I  come  for 
my  answer." 

And  then,  as  her  face  took  the  hue  of  the  red  rose  in 
her  hair,  she  spoke  softly,  but  not  so  softly  that  I  could 
not  hear,  the  answer  that  I  wished. 

359 


THE   END. 


(5) 


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YB  72690 


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THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


